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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


ChapJ2-5Copyright No. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 





































. 










» . 











. 

































* 




* 














[Green Fund Book, No. 13 b.] 


Toward The Glory Gate 


H Stor? of Soul 6rowtb 


BY 

JULIA MacNAIK WRIGHT 

W 

AUTHOR OF “ALMOST A NUN,” “A NEW SAMARITAN,” “OATH-KEEPER 
OF FORANO,” ETC., ETC. 



“ Use me, O Lord, use even me, 

Just as thou wilt, and when, and where, 
Until thy blessed face I see, 

Thy rest, thy joy, thy glory share.” 




% 


931 8 

Copyright, 1898, by The American Sunday-School Union 



2n 


. 1998 . 




CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGE. 

I. A Commonplace Girl 5 

II. This Is the Way 23 

III. In Highways and Hedges 42 

IV. The Summer and the Sun 61 

V. The Shadows on the Way 80 

VI. This is my Friend, O Daughters! 101 

VII. “ They go from strength to strength” 119 

VIII. Fellow Travellers 139 

IX. The Manners of the Upward Way 159 

X. The Little Errands Done for God. 178 

XI. The Tools near at Hand 197 

XII. Divine Manners 217 

XIII. In Famine — Satisfied 235 

XIV. Clothed Upon 254 

XV. The King’s Highway 273 

XVI. Santa Filomena 293 

XVII. The Joy of Elizabeth 313 

XVIII. The Golden Milestone 332 














TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


CHAPTER I. 

A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 

“ O’erjoyed that they 
An Eldorado in the grass have found, 

Which not the rich earth’s ample round 
Can match in wealth.” 

Eight ladies were gathered on the Eastern ve- 
randah of Mount Merion Cottage. Before them lay 
the summer fields, the green slopes of the hills, the 
bird-filled groves, the broad valley, the gilded river 
sweeping toward the sunset ; beyond- the mountain 
ranges lifting, lifting to the line where snows lay late. 
The earth seemed filled with beauty, as a cup is 
filled to the brim. The eight were resting, enjoying, 
or, in a leisurely way, working. Near the verandah, 
between two maples, swung a hammock. Ann Brad- 
ford lay in the hammock ; she was supposed to be 
asleep : the eight therefore made no account of her. 
A quiet, rather shy girl, Ann had gone to Mount 
Merion Cottage for rest : she was tired out after grad- 
uating, and there had been some hint of nervous 
prostration. 


5 


6 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


" I am so dull,” Ann had said one morning to Dr. 
Helen Train, “ I feel like sleeping all the time.” 

“ Sleep then all the time,” said Dr. Helen. “ Nature 
is offering you her sweetest remedy : also this is her 
gentlest revenge, taken for the years when you have 
not slept half enough. The account will be squared 
after a while, then you will wake up.” Therefore, 
Ann was generally supposed to be sleeping. She 
was awake now, lying quietly, her shade-hat pulled 
down over her face ; from under the rim she could 
see all the group on the verandah, and she passed 
them in mental review. There was nothing of envy 
or acrimony in her reviewing : Ann had a genuine 
admiration for all that was admirable. 

Grace Dare sat with her block of Whatman’s 
paper on her lap ; she was sketching in bits of 
landscapes, heads, trailing vines, branches, draper- 
ies. These would all work in as background, fore- 
grounds, what not, in future illustrations, for Grace 
Dare was already of some note among illustrators, 
making for herself an ample livelihood among the 
sweet surprises of art. 

“ Bright, cheerful, popular, lovely as her own 
pictures,” said Ann to herself, “ Grace Dare must 
find it worth while living. And there is Dr. Helen 
Train, what a grand life hers is ! Thirty, and already 
distinguished in her profession : full of enthusiasm, 
each day marked by some good done. What a 
blessing she is among the poor : how many mothers 
she has saved from wreck : how many little children 
on the verge of growing up crooked, half blind, 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 7 

chronically afflicted, she has set on the road to vig- 
orous health. She meets the suffering as Christ 
did ; she fears no contagion ; need is to her sufficient 
prayer. She can say, as did the apostles, ‘ Silver and 
gold have I none ; but such as I have give I thee.’ 
For her, surely, life is at the Beautiful gate of the 
temple. And there, by Dr. Train, is Dorothy Camp. 
They say she is twenty-six, and has been out of col- 
lege three years. Her magazine articles are already 
talked of. Her short stories are full of genius ; 
people are expecting great things of her and no doubt 
she expects great things of herself. That must be 
fine, to face your future, feeling sure that some day 
you will wake up to find that you have made yourself 
famous. Expecting great things of yourself ! That 
would be to live as if one wound along some pleas- 
ant upward way, knowing that some turn, — which, or 
how soon, you could not exactly tell, but surely at 
some one, — would open upon you the landscape of 
splendid beauty, crowning the climb up with all 
you had striven so far to see ! There, on that canvas 
reclining-chair, resting that she may work, is Sara 
Fordyce. She graduated this year, leading the 
University, had at once a Professorship of Literature 
offered her, and is called already a well-reputed 
scholar. When one has such brains as hers how 
well it pays to study ! ” 

Next to Miss Fordyce was a low rocker in which 
swung gently to and fro the eldest of the group, a 
woman past middle life. A calm, strong face, hair 
untouched with gray along its chestnut folds, eyes 


8 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

bent in tranquil satisfaction upon a beautiful child 
which slept, his shower of golden curls falling back 
over her arm. As she softly rocked the dimpled 
sleeper, it seemed from her satisfied smile, that a 
busy and fruitful life had found its beautiful culmi- 
nation in this little grandson. Said the watching 
Ann, “ Is it better to have attained, or to feel sure 
that we shall attain ? Mrs. Baron has made for- 
tune and reputation. Wherever she goes her name 
is an open sesame to hearts. In any gathering, if 
she should take the trouble to think about it, which 
I feel sure she does not, she would find herself one 
of the most distinguished.” 

Ann’s half-closed eyes smiled as they fell on the 
youngest of the group, a girl sitting on the steps, 
and swinging her hat by its ribbons — “ Pretty Clo- 
tilde Arblay — wherever she goes she is known as 
the beauty ! Not the highest style of renown, or 
badge of distinction, yet it seems that it must be 
delightful to know that you are always good to look 
at, always followed with admiration, always as dain- 
tily charming as a new-blown rose. And there is 
Mrs. Baron, Junior, making a blouse for her sleep- 
ing golden-hair. She is one of the women who 
always know exactly what to do, to say, to be, to 
wear. Always absolutely au fait , always gracious, 
always perfectly dressed, in the most artistic sense, 
one born to be a social queen, and make life move 
pleasantly wherever she goes.” 

A book fell and drew Ann’s attention toward the 
last of the eight ladies she was privately comment- 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 


9 


ing upon, Mrs. Baron’s daughter, — Mrs. Waldeck. 
Said Ann — “ There is another who, at thirty-one, 
has attained more than such an one as I can hope 
to reach in a long life. People say Mrs. Waldeck 
has one of the most brilliant minds of the day, and 
that few women of the country are so splendidly 
educated as she. She is an authority on many 
points in social economy and philanthropy, a leader 
in many great movements. One must fancy she 
was born great, for it hardly seems possible that so 
few years could have harvested so much. Born 
great, achieve greatness, have greatness thrust upon 
them : for me, I am out of the whole category — 
was there ever any one so hopelessly commonplace 
as I ? ” Ann gave a little smothered sigh and pro- 
ceeded to pass herself in review. 

“ No one ever wanted an education more than I 
did : how indefatigably I have pegged away at it ! 
Learning don’t come easy to me. 1 don’t absorb 
knowledge, I work for it. By dint of years of tire- 
less work, I have graduated, neither booby nor 
prize man : neither head nor foot, just along in the 
middle of my class, a fair, average, commonplace, 
deadly commonplace ! Study was not all I did in 
those years. What making and remaking of gowns, 
trimming of hats, cleaning of gloves, washing and 
mending of lace, have I had to do, to keep myself 
neatly and properly dressed on my small means. I 
succeeded in being always neat, if never fine ; not ob- 
servable for shabbiness nor for elegance, just so 
garbed that I was not noticed ; commonplace, terri- 


IO 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


bly commonplace ! As for looks, no one ever 
turned to look after me because I was either strik- 
ingly hideous, or handsome; just a plain girl, with a 
face healthy and fairly intelligent, and sympathetic ; 
neither dazzling nor repelling, merely unnoticeably 
commonplace ! It is the same with me in social 
position ; neither from the depths nor the heights. 
I have had grandfathers, but they did not head the 
roll of famo; they were just as I am, average, com- 
monplace. In friendships, like record : all think me 
well enough : no quarrels, no enemies, no long list 
of followers, no enthusiastic admirers and quoters, 
just commonplace. There’s my record : my outlook 
is of the same sort. I could enter the crowded ranks 
of teachers, and be a steady, hard-working, unenthu- 
siastic, commonplace instructor. I could marry, 
and be a quiet every-day, ordinary house-mistress ; 
though why I should marry just to keep a moderate 
house in moderate fashion, I cannot see. I never 
met a man that I cared for a whit above a cool 
friendship : I never met one who cared in warmer 
fashion for me. 

“ Missions open a wide field for some women, and 
it seems strange that, as I have informed myself well 
about missions, and am unincumbered I have felt no 
stronger drawings to such splendid work. Dealing 
honestly with myself, I cannot say I ever had any 
divine call to that work ; rather I feel as if across 
that path must stand some angel with an impalpable 
but impassable sword, as before Baalam. I have 
no eloquence for the bar : no nerve for medicine or 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 


ii 


nursing, no enterprise for business ! What am I to 
do ? I feel sinking in this commonplace, of myself 
and my environment, as Christian in the Slough of 
Despond. I must do something; conscience will 
not allow me to idle. What shall I do ? No one 
loves the grand, noble, beautiful, aesthetic, heroic, 
sublime more than I do, and no one knows more ex- 
haustively her incapacity to attain to any one of 
them. No one realizes more fully than I do her. 
own dull level of the commonplace. ‘ Help me, 
Cassius, or I sink ! ’ — in the commonplace ! ” 

Suddenly Dorothy Camp spoke. “ Dr. Train, did 
you know that Kate Shaw had given up her place at 
the Sanitarium ? How many good positions she has 
had, and not held one over six months ! I cannot 
understand it.” 

“ Kate,” said Dr. Helen Train, “ is an instance of 
an intense desire and dogged pursuit of something 
for which one is entirely unfit. Great ambition and 
industry are not always tokens of capacity, or ear- 
nest of success. Kate was determined upon a profes- 
sional life, without any native fitness for such life. 
She resolved to be educated abroad, to get the best 
start possible. She spent nine years of hard labor, 
on a five-years’ course. At last she reached her de- 
gree, and came home. The degree, and report of 
nine years’ study, secured her, one after another, 
valuable positions, which she proved entirely incom- 
petent to fill. Slowly as she had acquired knowl- 
edge, she was yet more slow in applying or distrib- 
uting it. It is a pity when people do not know, to 


12 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


begin with, their own limitations. It is worth some- 
thing to know what we cannot do.” 

“ Oho,” cried Dorothy Camp, “ we often want so 
much, indeed most of all, to do what we cannot do. 
What would I not give to be able to make such pic- 
tures as Grace makes.” 

“ Let me see your block, Grace. That is exquisite. ” 

“ I,” said Grace, handing over the block of paper, 
“ do so often long to be able to express myself as 
you do ; ah, if I could but write one of your stories ! 
I think of lovely things, and cannot tell them.” 

“ Except with pencil and brush,” said Mrs. Baron, 
Junior. 

“ How many girls,” said Mrs. Waldeck, “ have I 
seen pounding away at music, year after year, in 
indefatigable efforts to become good performers, and 
yet they cannot learn to give any musical expres- 
sion. How many girls spend from two to six years 
in an art school, when they have really no artistic 
instincts; form and color elude them.” 

“ Browning notices that trait — as he does most 
others,” said Sara Fordyce. “ He says in one of 
his poems — 

‘ Does he paint ? He fain would write a poem. 

Does he write ? He fain would paint a picture.’ ” 

“ It is very common,” observed Mrs. Baron, “ to 
set our desires on doing what we cannot do ; under- 
valuing the gift we have, and craving the gift of 
some other. One of the finest teachers I ever 
knew told me he had been consumed with a life- 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 


13 

long yearning for the power of oratory. He felt 
that if he could but once by eloquence sway and 
bend an audience to his will, he could die content. 
Yet in the successes of his pupils, and their con- 
tinued influence, he gained an audience greater than 
any one voice could reach. One of the best pastors 
and noblest sermonizers I ever met longed to be a 
poet. He wrote little verses which he fondly called 
poems. These were printed in newspapers and 
copied, because the man himself was loved for his 
goodness, and admired for his greatness as preacher 
and pastor. With the most innocent satisfaction he 
would dwell on these verses, fondly as a mother 
gazes on her child, fondly as I do on this little 
golden-haired sleeper ! If this man could have 
been called a poet, he would have believed himself 
really great, yet none of the earth’s poets have 
builded for eternity as he. It is well indeed if God 
marks out a plain path for our feet, and makes our 
gifts and calling so clear that he who runs may read. 
Then, single-minded, we can go our way, not grasp- 
ing after the crowns of others.” 

“ I think we are so shown our way,” said Mrs. 
Waldeck. “ The trouble is that we are not applying 
attention to the indications, or do not want to see 
what is plain enough. We want to see something 
else. Like Naaman we are expecting some miracu- 
lous manifestations for our calling, but God does not 
throw away miracles, nor cater to spiritual pride.” 

There was a little silence. A carriage rolled by 
the gate. 


14 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ There goes Mrs. Nelson ! ” said Clotilde, as a 
handkerchief waved. “ Always cheerful,” “ Always 
busy and useful,” “ Such a friend,” these were some 
of the encomiums passed on Mrs. Nelson. 

“ I want Mrs. Nelson to be to you all a high 
lesson,” said Mrs. Baron, looking at her younger 
friends. “ She is a shining example of a person 
lifted out of the entirely commonplace by the power 
of religion. By nature Mrs. Nelson is intensely 
commonplace, narrow in views, limited in her ideals, 
inclined to that most commonplace of all things — 
gossip. A thoroughly Christian upbringing, a true 
personal work of grace, have developed in Mrs. 
Nelson a strong deep type of piety. Her horizon is 
enlarged, her views and opinions sweetened, her 
ideals elevated. Religion has made of her a faithful 
friend, a useful member of the community, a most 
tender and' judicious mother, an unusually good and 
helpful wife, a vigorous church-worker, in fact, a 
pattern woman.” 

“And you lay all that to religion?” demanded 
Clotilde. 

“ Most emphatically I do. There is nothing 
which so lifts one out of the commonplace as 
earnest piety, as a truly active, energizing, religious 
life.” 

“Why-y-y, I cannot understand that,” said 
Clotilde. “ It seems to me that religion itself is 
very common ; almost every one that I know is 
religious ! ” 

“ There is a vast difference,” said Mrs. Waldeck, 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 


*5 

“ between true religion and mere formal religious- 
ness. If every one were truly religious, we should 
speedily be enjoying the millennium.” 

“ Carlyle remarked,” said Sara Fordyce, “ that in 
the British Islands were a certain number of millions 
of people, mostly fools. He also suggested that the 
British Isles were a fair sample of the world in gen- 
eral. One might, with much more of truth say, that 
in Christian lands, in this late age of the Christian 
Era, are a great many people addicted to religious- 
ness and much fewer people truly religious. Also 
one might say, with no fear of contradiction, that 
the population of the world is a certain number of 
billions of people, most of them commonplace. 
Now if real religion, that scarce article, is a cure 
for the commonplace, there is plenty of material for 
it to work upon, and a wonderful change to effect.” 

“ The fact is,” said Dr. Train, “ that a high style 
of piety is so very unusual that no one possessing it 
can be commonplace.” 

“ Isn’t it easily attained ? ” asked Clotilde, 
“ I thought it came from heaven, as a free gift, 
something just put into us.” 

“ Something, rather,” suggested Dorothy Camp, 
“ to be earnestly desired, the desire being heaven- 
descended ; something to be sought for, striven 
after also ; ‘ so agonize that ye may obtain.’ ” 

“ Put it easier,” said Mrs. Baron. “ Ask and 
ye shall receive. He giveth to all men liberally, 
and upbraideth not. See if I will not pour you out 
a blessing, till there be not room to receive it.” 


1 6 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

11 But how is it that religion cures Qne of being 
commonplace?” insisted Clotilde, in her artless way. 
“ I want to hear. Do you know that I am afraid 
that as soon as a few thief-years have stolen away 
my inherited good looks, I shall be dismally com- 
monplace ; for I have no wit, wisdom, energy, ex- 
periences — nothing but good looks, fleeting looks.” 

There was a general laugh at this, and Mrs. Baron, 
Junior, said, “Clotilde, you are not commonplace, 
you are that uncommon instance, a beauty without 
vanity.” 

“ My child,” said Mrs. Baron, “ why should not 
true religion lift us out of the commonplace ? The 
follower after real piety has for exemplar and com- 
panion the Christ of Nazareth, the one uplifting, 
spotless, magnificent, monumental character known 
to the ages, the pattern human, and the vivifying 
upholding God. We are known by the company we 
keep, and we grow like those with whom we asso- 
ciate. In Christ’s divine society we cannot fail to 
be changed from glory unto glory, toward the image 
of God. True religion severs us from self, sets us 
into service, it has the nobleness of self-sacrifice, 
the beauty of altruism. The rule of the Christian 
being is Christlike becoming. The law of religion 
is in that book of which there are more copies than 
of all other books put together, yet which is never 
commonplace, unless you can call commonplace the 
very quintessence of the beautiful, the simple, the 
venerable, the immortal, the strong. With such a 
Friend and Master, and such a chart and rule, is 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 


1 7 

there not imposed upon us a loftiness and helpful- 
ness of living, which has in it nothing' of the com- 
monplace ? ‘ We are lifted out of life’s sloughs, 

and set upon a rock.’ ” 

Ann Bradford, supposed to be asleep, had heard. 

“ Do you mean,” asked Grace Dare, “ that without 
religion, all people must be commonplace ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” said Mrs. Waldeck, “ all history 
contradicts that.” 

“ There are many who seem born to greatness, to 
heroism,” said Madame Baron. “ We all meet peo- 
ple whom nothing could make commonplace. There 
is Mrs. Ware ; see what a life of courage and good 
deeds hers has ' been. Left young and destitute, 
with five little sons, she has fought her way up for 
them and for herself ; five distinguished men sur- 
round her age, and revere the mother to whom they 
owe so much. To look at her, to hear her, is to feel 
that no softness of environment, no enticements of 
pleasure and indolence, could have betrayed the 
nobility of that nature. Without a shade or line of 
beauty, she stands grand, strong, sympathetic and 
attractive : and knowing her, we instinctively strive 
toward higher levels. Religion has intensified all 
in her nature that was fine and lofty. It is the 
key-note of her character, yet even without religion, 
she could never have been commonplace.” 

Presently there was a general movement upon the 
verandah, and the group scattered. Ann Bradford 
sat up, shook out her dress, put her hat in its prop- 
er place on her head. 

2 


1 8 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 

“ Sleepy still ? ” queried Dr. Helen, looking to- 
ward her with a smile. 

“ No. I am awake. At last fully awake.” 

“ Come up here and sit down by me,” said 
Mrs. Baron, pulling forward the chair which Mrs. 
Waldeck had vacated, and handing her waking 
grandson to his mother. “We have scarcely had 
any opportunity to become acquainted with you. 
You came here so tired, you have done well to 
rest.” 

“ It was not weariness merely,” said Ann Brad- 
ford, dropping into the offered chair, “but, you are 
all so brilliant, so distinguished — people who have 
found something to do in the world, and are able to 
do it ; you all look so great to me, for I am so em- 
phatically commonplace, that I have feared to in- 
trude.” 

“ We were speaking of the commonplace just 
now.” 

“ I heard you. I was not really asleep, and your 
conversation made me fully awake. It also gave me 
some encouragement. I felt that I also had what 
the French call a raison d'etre, because, though I 
cannot be distinguished, I can be good. Saying 
that, I am 7iot bidding for you to quote ‘ Be good, 
sweet maid, and let who will be clever.’ ” 

“ I see,” said Mrs. Baron, “ that you can be 
pleasant company. 

“ And,” said Ann, “ as I never met a young girl 
who could not be agreeable company, if she tried, 
that also is a very commonplace characteristic.” 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 


*9 

“ It is true,” said Mrs. Baron, with a tiny sigh, 
“ youth in its ingenuousness, impulsiveness, trust, 
vigor, hope, is always attractive.” 

Ann caught the little sigh with her heart rather 
than with her ears. She said, “ Yes, that is to youth’s 
score, but after all, is it not better to have attained, 
to have reached the wisdom of many experiences, 
to be full of counsel and helpfulness, to know the 
end, and no longer have anything left to fear — to 
dwell in Beulah Land ? ” 

“ With the Glory Gate rising in full view ? ” said 
Mrs. Baron, and looking carefully at Ann, added, 
“ Not all, indeed very few of the young, could 
feel that : not all, indeed very few, could so quickly 
catch that half-breathed sigh, which a woman gives 
to her buried youth. Already you must have had 
more experiences than most girls.” 

“ I have lost both my parents,” said Ann ; “ as far 
as kin are concerned I am almost alone in the world. 
I have had myself in charge since I was sixteen. I 
have been forced regularly to make two dollars do 
the proper work of four. I am now just past 
twenty-three. Naturally I have seen somewhat of the 
graver, more thoughtful, side of life. I think that 
I have all my life been waiting for a message ; 
perhaps you have brought it to me to-day — that in 
religion heartily lived, I can find the real worth of 
living, and be lifted out of the dreariness of common- 
placeness. If you had only added to your message, 
a word of what I ought to do with myself ; what 
direction should my life take ? ” 


20 


TO IV A RD THE GL OR V GA TE. 


“ Evidently you have been put in training for 
something,” said Mrs. Baron, “ and when the hour 
strikes then the something will be clearly revealed, 
if your attitude is that of being truly willing to know. 
All, I can add to my message to you is — It is good 
to be led. Wait. God never leaves his own standing 
idle on the ways of life, — just at the right minute you 
will hear a voice, saying, ‘This is the way; walk 
ye in it,’ and you will feel the clasping of a hand.” 

Ann walked beside Mrs. Baron upstairs, and 
turned to her own room. She sat down by her 
window. Of late her life had seemed to have the 
unvaried dreariness of the desert. Now it had 
blossomed with possibilities. She had been dwelling, 
as she admitted, on the gray side of life, now a new 
thought infused life with splendor, as the westward 
sky was shot through and through with glory by the 
sun. She had received no inspirations of romance 
or beauty, no afflatus of genius, but she had accepted 
the thought that her strong, sound body, and resolute, 
mediocre mind, could be used by the religion of the 
gospel as tools for useful and needed work. In soul- 
growth, she could reach a richness and fullness of 
being, otherwise unattainable. For seven years 
Ann had been a member of the church, and had 
been considered exemplary, but her religion, in point 
of fact, instead of being the ruling principle, hourly 
director, and constant measure of her life, had 
been relegated to Sabbath days and reserved for 
the hour and article of death, which always seems so 
far off from us all. 


A COMMONPLACE GIRL. 


21 


“ Instead,” said Ann to herself, “ it seems that it 
must be an affair of every-day living : that gives one 
more breathing-room at once.” 

She felt as if she had something in common with 
all these people from whom she had shrunk, and 
allowed herself to be drawn toward them. They 
met her bounteously. 

“ Come walk up to the crest of the hill with me,” 
said Dorothy Camp, that evening. “ How I revel 
in this scenery ! It so surpasses what I have some 
summers ; for there are holidays which I spend with 
my aunts in Dillburg.” 

“ Have you relatives in Dillburg ? I have a great 
aunt there, Mrs. Jane Fontaine — ” 

“Is she your aunt? She lives just opposite my 
aunts ! ” 

“ I visited her one summer, when I was six- 
teen. My parents had been kilted in a railroad 
disaster, and I went to Aunt Jane until my affairs 
were settled, and it was decided where I was to go 
to college,” said Ann. 

“ I hope if I go there again, you will be there,” 
cried Dorothy. 

“Thank you. It seems little likely. Aunt Fon- 
taine has two other nieces living with her. She 
came to see me graduate, and spent three days with 
me at my boarding house — nearly three, — there was 
half a day she was out by herself, I do not know 
for what. She thought I needed rest, and asked me 
what I meant to do. I told her about coming here- 
and she thought it a good plan. She did not sug- 


22 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


gest that goingto Dillburg would be a better plan,” 
and Ann looked half grieved and pained at the 
thought of her aunt’s silence. 

“ Well for you that she did not ! ” cried Dorothy. 
“ Dillburg is the most unattractive little place.” 

“It seemed so to me, dull, unambitious, bereaved 
of beauty, as if neglected acres forgotten of God and 
men.” 

“ I should say so ! Pigs roam the streets at will. 
Cows grazing on the waysides mingle the sound of 
their bells with the wheezing discords of cheap par- 
lor organs and ancient melodeons. The church has 
lost all its paint, there is not a full block of good side- 
walk ; only one store has plate glass windows ! The 
houses are all a worn, sad-colored paint ; no one 
keeps a handsome yard or lawn ; every one feels it 
due to thriftiness to feed a horse, colt, or calf in the 
front yard. There is no library, no reading-room, 
no hall for public entertainment : lectures and con- 
certs pass Dillburg by on the other side of the way. 
The place lags seventy years behind the time 1 


CHAPTER II. 


“this is the WAY.’- 

“ *Tis Revelation satisfies all doubts, 

Explains all mysteries except her own, 

And so illuminates the path of life 
That fools discover it, and stray no more.” 

Now that Arm Bradford allowed herself to meet 
readily the advances made to her by the other ladies 
at Mount Merion Cottage, she found them very de- 
lightful company. “ I had no idea,” she said, 
frankly, to Mrs. Baron, Junior, “ that you would be so 
friendly to me.” 

“ That was because you did not permit us to be, 
was it not? I think that most people who are left 
alone — and feel lonely, and maybe slighted, may 
themselves be partly to blame because they are too 
shy or sensitive, and withdraw themselves. I have 
found it so in churches. I am one of the Deacon’s 
Aid and Visiting Committee in our church, and it is 
part of my duty to welcome strangers and to try to 
make them feel at home. I find some of them very 
hard to get at. They will not speak nor allow 
themselves to be spoken to if they can help it, merely 
because they are reticent, nervous folk. Once we 

2 3 


24 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


succeed in making friends with them, they are very 
nice and often among our best helpers.” 

“ Probably all that is true,” said Ann. “ There 
are many folks who wish to have friends, but don’t 
know how to go about making them. They carry 
their shells about with them, like snails and turtles : 
they are the world’s slow people. Maybe you do 
not know how to sympathize with them nor how 
uncomfortable they feel, for I think you were born 
one of the queens of society in your easy, kindly, 
gracious nature. Now you know queens have to 
make advances : their station demands it, even to 
making their offers of marriage ! ” 

Mrs. Baron laughed. “ Well, I did not have to do 
that. But frankly, let me urge upon you to conquer 
this disposition to withdraw yourself, because it 
will hinder your usefulness. I think it has its spring 
in an undervaluing of yourself, and it is dangerous to 
think too little or too highly of ourselves. Be at ease 
with yourself, and you will be at ease with every- 
body.” 

“ I am sure that is so, but I feel so dreadfully 
commonplace.” 

“ Suppose you do ! ” cried Clotilde, “ what harm is 
in that ? What is more commonplace than grass, the 
world over, but where would the world be without 
grass, I’d like to know ? So is bread commonplace, 
and milk, and a hundred other good things are com- 
monplace, and the whole fabric of society rests 
upon them. Glory in the commonplace well 
used.” 


THIS IS THE WA K 


25 


“ Bravo, Clotilde ! ” cried Mrs. Baron. 

“ To tell you the truth,” said Clotilde, “ I am quo- 
ting from an article Dorothy Camp is writing. I 
never made that ! ” 

Ann Bradford looked contentedly from one to 
another ; this was very pleasant company — all of 
these women had thoughts, and discussed high 
themes. She said — 

“ If you all keep on you will make something of 
me.” 

“Of course we will,” said Sara Fordyce, “you are 
the kind of girl that must do something in the world 
because you have been put through a good training 
for usefulness. We cannot allow you to idle ; your 
playtime is nearly over. We are all of the world’s 
workers, and you must be, too.” 

“ By all means,” said Ann. “ I am restless, until 
I find my proper work. I wish you could point it 
out to me ! ” 

“ Why does not some one point out work for 
me ? ” asked Clotilde. 

“ Bless me, child, you are busy enough; you have 
your golden locks to wash in soda, your pretty hands 
to manicure, your skin and teeth to keep at the 
highest polish, your shoulders to keep straight, your 
attitudes to keep graceful,” said Dr. Helen Train 
smiling, and speaking with indulgence. They all 
loved this lovable creature. 

“ Don’t undervalue me that way,” said Clotilde. 
“ I may bloom right out into something fine, heroic, 
some day.” 


26 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ I have no field in myself for the occupation 
you suggest for Clotilde,” said Ann, “ but I wish 
your larger experiences could direct me to some 
work, that I could and should do — I want as large 
work, as much work, as I can .administer, not, I 
hope, for the mere sake of trying to be great myself, 
but because it is duty and blessedness, and obedience 
to my Lord not to be idle.” 

“ We can suggest work — but I think, after all, 
your direction, your compelling call will come from 
the Lord himself,” said Mrs. Baron. 

“How about philanthropy? Get a place as city 
missionary, or general helper of the poor, under one 
of the city churches,” said Dr. Train. 

“ I see in you a common-sense that would be 
largely useful there.” 

“ But too little experience,” said Ann, “ older 
women are needed.” 

“Get a Secretaryship in the Young Women’s 
Christian Association.” 

“ Or a sub-editorship for Christian Endeavor.” 

“ Or charge of a Home.” 

“ Don’t you feel the calm impertinence of the 
reporter budding in you, as the new horns sprout 
in spring on a young deer ? ” 

Thus suggestions rained on Ann from the 
merry group. 

“ All this is easy to you, you have all been called 
to your life-work,” said Ann. 

“ I suppose you couldn’t be a fashion designer ? ” 
said Grace Dare. 


THIS IS THE W A Y. 


27 


il A librarian’s place will be the very thing,” 
cried Clotilde. 

The days passed: Ann was happy, vigor had 
fully returned. Now the remainder of the vaca- 
tion seemed short before her, and after vacation — 
work, but what work ? The answer came. The 
mail had been distributed at Mount Merion Cottage, 
and Ann, who seldom received letters, had one 
stamped Dillburg. She sat down in her hammock 
to read it. There, after a little, Dorothy saw her, the 
letter open in her hand, her head hidden in the ham- 
mock cushions, and crying bitterly. Dorothy waited 
for a little, and then went to her, “ What is it, dear ? ” 
she said gently touching her shoulder. “ Are not 
our friends to help us bear troubles, and bring us 
comfort ? Is this anything you can tell me? ” 

“ My aunt, Jane Fontaine, is dead,” sobbed Ann. 
“There ! you can read the letter ! You can see 
what a noble, grand, brave woman she was, and how 
little I understood her, how I undervalued her, how 
I supposed she did not care for me, because she 
did not gush. You can see what a cold, hard, wick- 
ed idiot I have been ! ” 

“ When we have been wrong,” said Dorothy, “we 
can at least gather this good out of evil, that our 
mistakes shall be our lesson in the time to come. 
Good is the Egyptian commandment — ‘ Thou shalt 
not consume thy heart.’ Idle or vain regrets were, 
by ancient Egypt, reckoned among the forty-two 
deadly sins. I am sure it was only a mistake, a 
lack of knowledge, that led you to misunderstand 


28 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


your aunt, if you did. Besides, I am sure you gave 
her respect and affection. You told me you wrote 
to her regularly every week.” 

“ I did, but what was that? ” said Ann, in deep 
self-scorn. “ I ought to have understood what she 
really was, so brave, so self-sacrificing. Oh, how 
narrow are our judgments until the gate of heaven 
has opened to receive a soul, and the light streams 
back upon the path it trod, and we recognize the 
lofty character when it is too late?” 

Ann Bradford sat up, and made room for Dorothy 
to sit beside her. “ My aunt was buried two weeks 
ago,” she said. “ This letter is from her pastor, at 
Dillburg. Now just think what she was. For sev- 
eral years she had a trouble that she knew to be in- 
curable, but she faced death calmly, unafraid, her 
whole thought to do the best that could be done for 
those dependent upon her. I told you that when 
she came to see me graduate she went away by her- 
self, for half a day, and did not explain it. She 
went to a famous surgeon to learn how much longer 
she was likely to live. He told her not two months. 
She was calm. She did not let me have a hint of 
this. She took her sentence of death as quietly as 
an invitation for some long-hoped-for journey. Oh, 
people call soldiers and officers brave, because they 
march cheerfully and firmly into battle. What 
shall we call such a woman, who, being told that 
within two months she- must die, does not let the 
thought ruffle in any measure her deep calm, and 
quietly sets her house in order, that she may be gone.” 


THIS IS THE WA Y. 


2 9 


“ Consider though, Ann, she had long* set her 
heart on this land where she was going, and 
there dwelt her Lord, and these whom on earth she 
had most loved and missed. My aunts told me that 
Mrs. Fontaine was a very good woman, strong- 
hearted, and full of good judgment : quiet, reserved, 
who was naturally reticent, and who had suffered 
deep sorrows* of which she never spoke. One of 
the summers when I was in Dillburg she was away, 
and the other she was much shut up with one of 
her nieces who was sick.” 

“ All that quiet way, that reserve, made me think 
she did not care for me, nor for any one ; that she 
was cold-hearted. Now only think, she never let 
me know of her state or approaching death, be- 
cause she said I deserved, after my hard work, a 
happy graduation. Then, as she saw that I was 
somewhat worn out, and needed rest, she advised 
me to come here, fearing that if I went to Dillburg, 
her sudden death from heart trouble would be an 
injury to me. Think of that ! How she was plan- 
ning for my good, while I merely thought her 
cold and indifferent to me, not caring where I 
went ! It was thoughtfulness for me that made her 
charge her minister, Mr. Gillespie, that I was not 
to be informed of her death until two or three 
weeks had passed, and affairs were settled. She said 
she wanted me to have all the rest and strength 
I could gather, as I should need it all for the work 
she had left me to do. O Dorothy, I have believed 
myself so quick to see and admire goodness and 


3 ° 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


high moral living, and here was one of the strongest, 
truest-hearted women who ever lived, and I did not 
recognize it at all. What a blind bat I must be ! I 
can never forgive myself.” 

“ Do not blame yourself too much, some of these 
self-sacrificing people that live only for others, so 
sedulously conceal not only their own good works, 
but the springs of their action, that we -cannot know 
them for what they are — they live so entirely for eter- 
nity that they seem content to be known only there, 
and misunderstood here. You spoke of a work she 
left you to do, Ann, what is it ? Has your work 
found you, the work for which you have been kept ? ” 

“ Why so it has,” said Ann. “ Do you know, I had 
not thought of that at all — I was so absorbed in 
thinking of my aunt, and how I had misunderstood 
her, and what an inspiration she might have been to 
me if I had only known her better. You see, Doro- 
thy, I had been with her very little, only that summer 
when I lost my parents, and I stayed with Aunt Fon- 
taine until my business was settled and it was decided 
where I should go to college. Then two years after 
that, she came where I was, and remained with me 
for a week. I understand that now, she had begun 
to think she had heart trouble, and came to see a 
city doctor : he told her that the trouble was in- 
curable, but that she would probably live several 
years. From that time she made all her plans move 
toward leaving her affairs and work in good order. 
Mr. Gillespie says she told him that she felt then 
that I was the one that she must choose to fill her 


THIS IS THE WA V. 


31 


place, and she concluded to make me self-reliant, by 
leaving me as much as possible to myself, not only 
that I might less need others to lean upon, but that 
some might lean upon me.” 

“ I see,” exclaimed Dorothy, “ and she has left 
the two Tracy girls to you ! ” 

“ That, and her property, and the various works 
she had undertaken. She had a much younger sister 
greatly beloved, who has been for years in an insane 
asylum. Mr. Gillespie says she prayed very earnest- 
ly that that sister might not outlive her, and God 
heard her prayer ; the sister died three months ago. 
I did not know there was such a sister, and I think 
few others did. Aunt spoke very little of her trials. 
When she found she had such a little while to live, 
she took Mr. Gillespie into full confidence. He 
seems an excellent man, he has written me such a 
good, helpful letter. He says there are things 
that he can tell me, but not write, and he wishes to 
know how soon I shall be able to come and fill the 
place my aunt has left for me. Fill her place ! I 
can never fill her place ! But I must go and do my 
best. I shall go next Monday.” 

“ At least,” said Dorothy, “ your mind is at rest 
about what you will do, and where you will go. 
Work in plenty seems to be mapped out for you, 
and you are to live in Dillburg, which you and I 
have decided to be the dullest, most forsaken town 
or village in creation. However, in this Mr. Gilles- 
pie and his wife, you will find friends, cultivated, 
delightful people, if I am to believe what my aunts 


32 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


write of them ; and my aunts, Mrs. Gates and Mrs. 
Percy, live together, right opposite your house, and 
are your nearest neighbors. They are good, bright, 
refined women, only needing a little waking up, 
which perhaps you can give them. In fact, I should 
advise you to make it part of your business to wake 
up the whole place.” 

“ I feel no confidence in myself, as able to do 
anything, now that I see how dull are my perceptions, 
how mistaken my judgments in Aunt Fontaine’s case. 
And she was equally mistaken about me, or she 
would not have supposed I could take up her work. 
She estimated me far above my worth, as I meanly 
estimated her far below hers.” 

“I think on the whole, Ann Bradford, she showed 
her good judgment and insight, in choosing you as 
she has. There is much more in you, of a usable, 
common-sense fashion of virtue, than you imagine. 
Your life has been a good training for the duties 
now put before you, and the more you exercise your 
faculties, the more vigorously they will develop. 
Take courage. ” 

“ I am already trembling for fear of being a 
prodigious failure.” 

“Then you are failing to remember that you can 
call upon the Strong for strength ; and that you have 
a Helper and a Counsellor pledged to your aid. ” 

“ That is good thinking,” said Ann, wiping her 
eyes and folding her letter, preparatory to going to- 
ller room for a time of quiet meditating over the 
path so suddenly opened for her treading, of prayer 


THIS IS THE WA Y. 


33 


for help that she might not walk alone. Dorothy 
Camp passed out into the rose-garden beside the 
house ; branch after branch of the royal flowers she 
drew down gently to her face, inhaling their fra- 
grance, revelling in the splendor of their coloring, 
fancying that a perfect rose must be God’s completest 
creative thought in flowers. But only half her mind 
was on the roses- she kept saying to herself- “ The 
Tracy girls ! Davy Tracy ! Elizabeth, poor Eliza- 
beth ! Certainly, the Lord knew it would not have 
done to send me to take those Tracy girls in 
hand.” 

After a while she went back to the verandah and 
finding the others of the group of friends gathered 
she informed them of the call which had rung out 
to Ann Bradford ; also she made clear to them what 
fashion of a village was Dillburg. Finally, she de- 
livered her opinions concerning the Tracy girls. 
“ Elizabeth is a chronic invalid, with spinal trouble, 
can’t leave her chair or bed, has a woman all the 
time to wait upon her, is spoiled so that she is nearly 
unendurable, poor, little, miserable, sensitive, misan- 
thrope of sixteen. Davy Tracy is the most ex- 
asperating, self-willed, gifted little vixen that can 
be imagined i she has health for six, brains for ten, 
spite for fifty, and she is fourteen. Elizabeth has 
some money tied up to her by her grandfather, who 
left her all he had, because she was a cripple for 
life. Davy has nothing, and Elizabeth, when she is 
galled nearly to death by Davy’s health, wit, and 
good looks, twits her with being a pauper. If Ann 
3 


34 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


Bradford wanted a field for the display of all the 
Christian graces, I can tell you she has it to the 
very last item. ” 

“ What is going to support all this ? I hope there 
was a plenty of money,” spoke up Clotilde, “ money 
answereth all things ! ” 

“ There is some money, not a large fortune, I 
fancy. Mrs. Jane Fontaine had a comfortable 
house, dull and ugly as the rest of Dillburg houses ; 
she kept a man and a cook and seemed to have in- 
come for her moderate style of living. She also 
economized pretty closely, and I have heard her 
wish that she were able to do various things, which 
she had not means to undertake. Ann says that 
she has always been making two dollars fill the place 
of four, and I fancy she may go on doing that 
same, to the end of the chapter.” 

“ Poor Ann,” sighed pretty Clotilde Arblay. 

“ Happy Ann,” said Madame Baron, “ whose Mas- 
ter has so evidently prepared a work for her, so 
plainly called her to do it. She is not to be pitied 
that she is placed where, as Dorothy says, she will 
be called upon to cultivate all the Christian graces ; 
blessed are they who have the widest opportunities 
for soul growth. Recite for us, Dorothy, the 
Rosary of Evangelical Graces.” 

Dorothy smiled, “ Add to your faith, virtue ; and to 
virtue, knowledge ; and to knowledge, temperance ; 
and to temperance, patience ; and to patience, godli- 
ness ; and to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to 
brotherly kindness, charity.” 


THIS IS THE WA Y. 


35 

“ Who is sufficient for these things ? ” cried Grace 
Dare. 

“ We can do all things through Christ which 
strengtheneth us,” said Dr. Helen Train. 

Ann Bradford’s unexpected change of prospect 
naturally occupied much of the attention of the 
group of friends gathered at Mount Merion Cottage. 
The next afternoon as they were seated on the ver- 
andah, Mrs. Waldecksaid, “ I hope this will open for 
Miss Bradford a wide field of usefulness.” 

“ I shall miss her,” said Sara Fordyce. “ I like 
that girl.” 

“ So do I,” said Clotilde, and looking up she saw 
that Ann had just appeared in the doorway. “ We 
were speaking of you,” said Clotilde, “ and saying 
that we were sorry to lose you.” 

“ It is good to be missed,” said Ann, taking the 
seat to which Madame Baron beckoned her, next 
herself. “Now I have only two days more to stay 
among you, and I shall miss all the help I get from 
your wise heads. Won’t you each give me some 
good advice, before I go ? I feel as if I should be 
in the greatest need of it.” 

“ How glad I am to have you say that,” cried Dr. 
Helen Train. “ I have been fairly aching to bestow 
some counsel upon you, and yet did not like to in- 
trude it. My advice concerns that chronic invalid 
to whom you have fallen heir. Such an invalid, es- 
pecially one who is young, rouses our keenest sym- 
pathy. We feel the lot so hard, such a bitter con- 
trast to our own, or that of any normally healthy 


36 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


person, that our first instinct is to cater to our in- 
valid in every way, until, unless very rarely graced 
and gifted, the invalid falls into the role of domestic 
tyrant, than which nothing can be worse for the in- 
valid, or the family. A sick person in a house 
naturally occupies much of the thought of the house- 
hold : if this is made too apparent, the sufferer falls 
into the general current of thinking, and becomes 
self-centred, which is even more disastrous for a 
sick than a well person. A sick person should, as 
far as possible, forget self. ‘ A watched pot never 
boils ’ is a homely old saying, and watched bad 
symptoms are slow to ameliorate. Nothing is more 
helpful for the chronic invalid than cultivating cheer- 
fulness, self-help, as far as possible, unselfishness. 
Call your invalid out of herself : don’t cater to 
crankiness and fretfulness, and that morbidness that 
shrinks from all society, avoids all subjects of extra- 
neous interest, and feeds upon its own miseries. A 
chronic invalid kept in touch with the life of the 
world, helped to look on the bright side of things, 
firmly repressed in cantankerousness, is the invalid 
before whom lie possibilities of some sudden turn 
in events, which shall tend toward complete, or par- 
tial recovery. One never really knows the power of 
physical recuperation that there is in youth : none 
of us estimate fully the wide and remarkable devel- 
opments of hysteria. Good cheer and good common- 
sense, are two most admirable medicaments for 
chronic invalids. I wanted to say all this, because 
I gather from Dorothy, that your Elizabeth Tracy 


THIS IS THE WA Y 


37 


has been most shockingly spoiled by Mrs. Fontaine, 
which is an immense pity, at sixteen. The only in- 
valid who should be allowed to tyrannize is the aged 
one, who has no constitutional or nerve force to 
build improvement upon. Now this is your chronic 
invalid from a medical point of view. Sympathy 
and kindness and tendance, such need, and should 
have boundlessly ; but whatever you give, give help 
to make the invalid the best and noblest possible 
along all moral lines. ,, 

“ That is worth all our hearing, doctor,” said Mrs. 
Waldeck. 

“ Here, Ann, is my advice,” said Sara Fordyce. 
“ Don’t forget that you are college bred, that your 
opportunities have been better than those of most 
whom you wall meet. Keep yourself up to the 
mark. Don’t throw away or let rust the education 
which God has seen fit to let you acquire. Keep 
abreast of the day, and quietly try to bring as 
many as you can of your associates, into line with 
you. Don’t be afraid to lead, the educated person 
is bound to be a leader. Read, study, buy books, 
have on hand the best magazines, and by being 
liberal to others of your intellectual life, you will 
unawares broaden their lives, and elevate their think- 
ing.” 

“ Ann, dear,” interposed Dorothy Camp, merrily, 
“ I beg of you give a little of your time and atten- 
tion to making over that miserably dull village of 
Dillburg ! I am obliged to spend a vacation there 
now and then, do, for my sake, see to it that the 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


38 

place is modernized — pavements, artesian water, 
better lighting, paint, plate glass ; Ann, when I am 
in Dillburg, I truly pine for these amenities of life.’ , 

A burst of laughter greeted this extravaganza. 
Ann said, “ I had hoped better things of you, 
Dorothy, the others are giving me really helpful 
suggestion, but here you blow in my face a great 
splendid tantalizing bubble, which breaks as we 
look at it, and leaves Dillburg with grass-grown 
walks and paintless houses, and the tinkle and grunt 
of domestic animals feeding in the streets.” 

“ I know it is a hideous place,” said Clotilde, 
I always have heard that it was, and so, Ann, here 
is my advice, and it is good and sound. I want you 
to follow it. Cultivate beauty. Strain a point 
in your finances, if necessary, to create beauty in 
your home. I see it in my mind’s eye, with stiff 
shades, perhaps even rattling paper curtains at the 
windows ; the floors, an archipelago of braided rag 
mats, laid to protect old-fashioned, hideous, ingrain 
carpets : the wall paper dark, and out of date, the 
chairs set in stiff rows against the wall ; for pictures, 
a few chromos ; the yard barren of flowers, the 
porches destitute of vines. Of course your invalid 
will be gloomy and cross, where there is no beauty 
near to sweep the mind off into joyful thoughts of 
all the lovely things that God has made and loves. 
If you settle down, Ann, in ugly dull surroundings, 
your taste will atrophy, you will be dull and un- 
hopeful, and you will grow old fast. Now mind 
that.” 


THIS IS THE W A Y. 


39 


“ Clotilde is right,” said Madame Baron. “ I 
see Grace had just such advice to give you, and so 
had I. God is the great beauty Lover, the Creator 
of beauty for himself. The microscope leads us 
into ways unknown to human eyes unhelped, where 
beauty blazes and scintillates, in flower pollen, 
beetles’ wings, fish’s scales, butterflies’ plumage, a 
thousand forms made beautiful, not for unseeing 
men, but for God. As a lover and cultivator of 
beauty, Ann, you may have a great mission to Dill- 
burg and its people.” 

“ I am going to say a word for your minister and 
his wife. I have heard about Mr. Gillespie,” said 
Mrs. Baron, Junior. “ He is a cousin of my pastor. 
He was called to a city charge as soon as he left 
the seminary ; it proved too much for his health. 
His nerves threatened to give way, and he wisely 
retreated to a village church. You can be a great 
help to him and his wife, in church work, in the 
organizing of work, in the social life of the church. 
Your education and your city life will make you 
congenial to them, and you can give them aid which 
many of the Dillburg people cannot. Don’t feel 
that you are too young, too ignorant ; there is a deal 
of false modesty in the world ; do what you are 
asked to do; do ail that you can ; don’t be afraid of 
being said to put yourself forward ; if you give other 
people their full innings, and never allow in your- 
self a critical spirit, no one will object to your work- 
ing. Even if they do, remember that you serve not 
men but our Lord Christ.” 


40 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ If I only had your social tact and quickness in 
saying nice things to people, Mrs. Baron,” said Ann. 

“All that will come with cultivation, and a heartily 
loving spirit,” said Mrs. Waldeck. 

“ I feel,” said Ann, “ like the girl in the fairy tale ; 
she was to set off on a journey, and went around 
among her fairy friends with an open bag, into which 
they put treasures for her use on the way. Now, 
Madame Baron, just something more from you, as 
you are the wisest of all. Base it on the fact that I 
cannot say as did King Henry Fourth, “ I am not 
in the roll of common men.” I am absolutely and 
entirely commonplace. Tell me what will suit even 
me.” 

“ Life is made up of trifles ; character is moulded 
by daily trifles,” said Madame Baron, “ and char- 
acter is that which we shall carry with us out of this 
life, and which will endure throughout eternity. In 
these little things, humble events, and simple say- 
ings of your daily living, pursue beauty, service, 
thoroughness, thought culture ; so you shall serve 
God and help humanity. When you are tired and 
discouraged take heart, rejoice in the beauty that is 
everywhere, as a thought of your divine Father; be 
glad that it is always open to you to serve, and so 
follow Christ, your Elder Brother ; know that what- 
ever you do can be done thoroughly, and so you can 
work as God works, and working you will grow ; he 
who dwells in lofty thinking will never be betrayed 
into mean and trivial living.” 

These words were as Ann Bradford’s dower, when 


THIS IS THE WA V. 


41 


she left her friends and went to take up the life-work 
of one whose harvests the east wind had touched, 
until they were utterly withered in the furrows where 
they grew. 


CHAPTER III. 


IN HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES. 

“ Get leave to work, 

In this world, *tis the best you get at all.” 

An early start from Mount Merion on Monday 
brought Ann to the city soon after noonday. There 
were a few friends to bid good-bye, and the last 
of the packing and sending off of the belongings, 
which even the most economical of girls will collect 
during seven years, occupied several hours. There 
were the various gifts which recalled favorite com- 
panions, and especial anniversaries. Ann did not 
know how dear was the suite of rooms, which she 
had shared with two other girls of the college, how 
dear the well-known city had become, until this 
hour of final leave-taking. 

Another early start, and about two o’clock on 
Tuesday, Ann was in the small, ugly, dusty, deserted 
station of Dillburg. No one was there to meet her, 
so asking directions from the baggage-master, and 
trusting somewhat to her own memories, Ann set 
off, her sun umbrella held over her head by one 
hand, while the other carried her linen shawl-bag. 

The little town seemed asleep in the hazy late 
42 


IN HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES. 


43 


August afternoon ; the grass and trees wore the dusty 
faded livery of the passing summer ; the streets 
were nearly deserted ; here a few hens were taking 
ajdust bath, while a cock with a fountain of pris- 
matic-hued feathers falling over his back, marched 
statelily up and down the sidewalk; the intermittent 
jangle of a bell betrayed the whereabouts of the 
grazing cow ; and a fat porcine mother grunted on 
her way, followed by six little black sons with tightly 
curled tails and little dancing legs, rollicking along, 
glad to be alive even as pigs — perhaps glad because 
they were pigs ! 

Ann Bradford stopped at a gate in a fence that 
had not been painted for years ; as she unlatched it, 
she considered that just seven years had elapsed 
since she passed out of that gate, going, as now she 
came, her solitary way. She looked up, and there, 
on the small porch, sat reading, a girl of about the 
age Ann had been when she left. The girl, with 
studied intention, kept her eyes on her book as Ann 
approached, until the words “ good-afternoon ” made 
it impossible for her not to look up. Then she raised 
a very pretty dark face, and a pair of defiant brown 
eyes, and said, “ Oh ! I suppose you’re Miss Brad- 
ford. You’ve got here at last, have you ? You’ll 
hate it, but I suppose you’ll have to stay.” 

“ As I have to stay, ” said Ann with calmness, “ I 
intend to like it. It is idle to grow old and ugly 
fighting fate. I have ordered my trunks brought 
down at once, and must see in what room I should 
put them. Where is my room ? ” 


44 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ I don’t know,” said the girl, picking up her book 
again. 

“ You are Davy, I suppose. Where is Eliza- 
beth?” 

“ In her room, of course. But she is in one of 
her tantrums, so you’ll not go near her, if you know 
what is good for you. No one can put up with her 
in a tantrum, but C’list’an — and I wouldn’t stand it, 
if I was C’list’an.” Davy spoke venomously ; she 
had just been utterly routed by Elizabeth. 

“ All right,” laughed Ann, “ I’ll take your advice 
until I find some that is better. Which room did 
my aunt occupy ? ” 

“ Back parlor,” said Davy, with a wave of her hand 
over her shoulder. 

“Downstairs, and sunless,” summed up Ann, 
following with her eyes the wave of Davy’s hand. 
“ I shall not risk my health on such a room as 
that.” 

“There are four rooms downstairs,” said Davy 
sharply, “parlor, back-parlor, Elizabeth’s and the 
dining-room. Of course, there’s the kitchen and 
pantry in the L. Elizabeth has the front south 
east room, below, so she can be next the dining- 
room. Of course, you can’t turn her out.” 

“ I should not wish to,” said Ann, with calmness. 
“ Are there the same number of rooms above ? 
Then I will take the room above Elizabeth’s, unless 
it is yours.” 

“ That’s the spare-room,” snapped Davy. 

“ It will be good enough for me,” said Ann with 


IN HIGH W A YS AND HEDGES. 


45 

serenity. “ I don’t believe in shutting up the 
healthiest rooms for the occasional use of guests, 
and giving sunless, cold rooms to those who need 
to use them all the time. There are my trunks. 
Who is there on the place to help with them ? ” 

“ Mr. Black, I suppose,” said Davy, and around 
the house corner, at the sound of wheels, came a 
big, ruddy, middle-aged man, in his shirt-sleeves. 

“ Are you Mr. Black ? ” said Ann, stepping toward 
him. 

“ Yaas, — lived here five years with Miss Fontaine. 
I lay out you’re the new missus.” 

“ Yes,” said Ann. “ Will you have the two 
trunks carried up to the room over Miss Eliza- 
beth’s, and the box taken to the back of the house, 
until it can be unpacked.” 

“ Here’s Maggie,” proclaimed Davy, moving out 
of the way of the trunk-carriers. 

“Cook,” announced Maggie, somewhat super- 
fluously, as she had flour on her nose and apron. 

“ I’m glad to see you,” said Ann, frankly, hold- 
ing out her hand. There was a simple dignity and 
human kindliness about Ann, which caused the cook 
to inform Mr. Black that “ the new missus was a 
perfec’ lady, an’ she jest pitied her havin’ to wrastle 
with them Tracys.” Ann went upstairs and pro- 
ceeded to unpack her trunks and make herself at 
home. She was at home; all from corner founda- 
tion-stone to chimney-top was hers. There was 
no one to welcome her, no one to do the honor of 
the house, but why be dashed by that ? She might 


46 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


as well not sigh for these little refused amenities, 
but quietly conquer her position by assuming her 
rights. 

Ann told Maggie to open the windows and fill the 
pitchers ; then she unpacked her trunks, taking pos- 
session of the big, old-fashioned bureau, and great 
empty closet of her new room. At the end of two 
hours she put on a black nun’s veiling dress, went 
downstairs, and knocked at the door of Elizabeth’s 
room. A tall, strong woman of middle age, a woman 
with a pleasant smile and bright eyes, opened the 
door. Ann announced, 

“ I am Miss Bradford, and wish to see Miss 
Elizabeth.” 

“ I’m C’list’an : come in. ’Lizbeth, here’s the 
new missus.” 

Elizabeth, stretched on a reclining-chair, turned a 
pale, scowling face toward the door. 

“ I’m Ann, dear. Let us say ‘ Cousin Ann,’ by 
courtesy, as we were both Aunt Jane’s nieces though 
by different sides of the house.” Thus saying, Ann 
took a low chair by the invalid, and laid her cool, 
strong hand upon the slim, nervous one, that hung 
limply against Elizabeth’s brown wrapper. “ It does 
seem a pity that we have not known each other 
a little, before we have to live together; but we 
shall soon be well acquainted,” added Ann. 

“You’ve never been here,” said Elizabeth, “be- 
cause I did not want you here. I didn’t want Aunt 
Fontaine to have any one here. I hate company. I 
don’t want any one to see me, and I won’t have it ! ” 


IN HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES. 


47 


“ It seems as if that must be hard on you, and not 
quite kind to other people,” laughed Ann. “ If 
all that cloud of golden hair of yours was tied with 
a blue ribbon and set off by a blue wrapper, you’d 
be a picture that it would be a true charity to show 
to people. Is not that so ? ” queried Ann, turning 
toward the woman who had sat down to sew. 

“ C’list’an I am,” suggested the woman. “ Given 
name Calista Ann, C’list’an for convenience, an* 
Bobbs for surname. Yes, it’s so : ’Lizbeth’s been 
moody, an’ Mis’ Fontaine jest fell in with her dis- 
piritin’ ways. Mebby it would have been a sight 
better if she hadn’t. Can’t bring up health by gloom- 
in’ an’ pinin’ I say.” 

“ I should recommend sunshine, plenty of flowers, 
lace curtains, and bright ribbons, and lovely pink 
and blue wrappers, until we made our Elizabeth’s 
room the picture-gallery of the house. Don’t you 
like pictures ? ” 

“ No, I hate them,” said Elizabeth. 

“ Oh, I don’t mean like these,” cried Ann, looking 
at some old style photographs, in black frames, hang- 
ing crooked on the wall. “ I mean lovely new en- 
gravings, and water-colors, and landscapes, that 
you can feel yourself walking in. I see your maga- 
zines are old : have you had this month’s num- 
ber ? I brought them in my handstrap, and will let 
you have them.” 

Maggie appeared in the hall. “ Mr. Black wants 
to know, Miss Bradford, if he shall open that box 
now, in case something happened to it over night.” 


48 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


“ He might — if you and Davy have time to help 
me unpack it and carry in the things. I’m very 
tired.” 

“ Oh, we’ve got time,” said Maggie, who looked 
on the unpacking as an event to break the general 
dullness of her life. Davy struggled between curios- 
ity and a desire to be offish. 

“ Well, I can help,” she said, finally. “ Did you 
know there’s a big box, up in the attic, of your things ? 
I wanted to look into it, and aunt wouldn’t let 
me.” 

“Thank you for reminding me, I’d forgotten that 
box. If Mr. Black will open that also, we’ll unpack 
it the first thing to-morrow.” 

The house was in a bustle carrying Ann’s goods 
to the upper hall, until nearly tea-time. C’list’an 
felt obliged to help, as a treat to herself, and as she 
left the door of Elizabeth’s room open, Ann saw that 
Elizabeth looked interested in watching the prog- 
ress. Ann then opened the door into the dining 
room, saying quietly, “You keep too much shut up, 
child,” and she took time also to go out to look for 
a bouquet for the supper-table, securing some honey- 
suckle and a monthly rose or two, that were grow- 
ing in a half-wild state over the back fence. These 
she placed in a little silver vase of her own, in the 
center of the tea-table. Thus Ann Bradford intro- 
duced herself and beauty into her new home. 

Ann and “ her Tracys,” as Maggie had already 
begun to call them, were just finishing tea, when 
C’list’an, who endeavored to enliven the monotony 


IN HIGH W. A YS AND HEDGES. 


49 


of her existence by attending to calls at the front 
door, announced “ Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie in the par- 
lor,” and Ann went to them, getting her first glimpse 
thus of that particularly dismal room. 

“You will pardon my not meeting you at the 
station, as I had hoped to do,” said Mr. Gillespie. 
“ I was called into the country to a very sick pa- 
rishioner, and our baby chose the exact hour of your 
arrival to indulge in the earache. As soon as all 
was quiet along parochial and domestic lines, we 
came.” 

“ I am thankful to see you so soon,” said Ann. 
“ I feel rather oddly circumstanced here, and much 
depends upon my beginning right. To do that I 
must know exactly what the situation is, and I de- 
pend upon you to tell me.” 

“ To-morrow, at eleven, I am to take you to Mr. 
Grace, your aunt’s lawyer, to conclude some busi- 
ness formalities. Meantime I can explain how 
affairs stand. Mrs. Fontaine left you this house 
and the half-acre surrounding it, and an invested 
capital amounting to two thousand a year.” 

“ Why,” exclaimed Ann, much surprised, “ that 
looks great riches to me. I have been economizing 
as much as I could, yet still obliged to trench upon 
my capital, until now an investment that gives me 
two hundred a year, and three hundred dollars that 
I had kept for this autumn’s emergencies, are all 
my wealth.” 

“ Your aunt’s bequest will look much smaller, 
Tfrhen you know how it is encumbered. First, Mrs. 

4 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE 


5 ° 

Fontaine’s mother long ago subscribed a yearly 
twenty-five dollars to the church here, and seventy- 
five dollars to cover all the expenses of a girl in a 
missionary school in India. As fast as one girl is 
grown up, and provided for, another fills her place. 
Mrs. Fontaine made it a condition that that one 
hundred of giving should be a charge on the estate, 
in honor of her mother’s memory.” 

“ I shall like that very well,” said Ann. 

“ Another charge on the estate is in the shape of 
a small boy, Arthur Douglas, an orphan nephew of 
the late Mr. Fontaine. He is now nearly twelve. 
He has a hundred and fifty dollars a year of his 
own, and outside of that, Mrs. Fontaine was pledged 
for all his expenses, giving him a college or business 
education, and doing all that is properly needed for 
him until he is twenty-one. He has means but for 
part of his expenses. He has been kept in a 
‘ Home School for Little Boys,’ up in the hills ; 
his cost to Mrs. Fontaine has been two hundred a 
year, but now the charge will be more, as he has 
outgrown that school, and must be at once provided 
for somewhere else.” 

“Hasn’t she had him here ever?” asked Ann. 
“ Has the child grown up, so far, practically 
homeless ? ” 

“Your aunt was not very fond of children: I 
think, too, she had a dread of small boys. Finally, 
Elizabeth hates children, and does not want any 
visitor of any age here, and Mrs. Fontaine long ago 
set up Elizabeth as the domestic tyrant.” 


IN HIGHWA YS AND HEDGES . 


5 1 

“ Well,” said Ann, “ I love children, and particu- 
larly dote on small boys. If I am responsible for 
that boy, I must get well acquainted with him, and 
have personal influence over him. He must feel 
that he has a home and family, poor little man ! I 
shall send for him this very week.” 

“ Do let me shake hands with you ! ” cried Mrs. 
Gillespie, springing up impulsively and holding out 
her hand. “ I have two boys, and that is the way 
I think boys should be spoken of.” 

“ You see I have brought your income down three 
hundred,” said Mr. Gillespie, “ but it must suffer 
yet another drop. There was a debt, a disgraceful 
debt, a forger’s debt, left by Mrs. Fontaine’s young- 
est brother. Fie died penitent, striving in South 
America to make good his defaulting. His father 
never forgave his act, and pledged his daughter, 
when he left her his property, never to diminish the 
capital for her brother’s debt. She has been pay- 
ing the debt out of income, to the heirs of the 
wronged party. There is a charge of four hundred 
a year to these heirs, for five years to come ; when 
that debt of honor and dishonor will be fully paid, 
and, like David, Mrs. Fontaine can plead, ‘ Then I 
restored that which I took not away.’ You see your 
income is brought down to thirteen hundred.” 

“ That is plenty,” said Ann. 

“ Consider you have the house to keep up, including 
taxes and insurance, yourself to provide for, and 
Davy Tracy, for Davy has not a penny, and in her 
will Mrs. Fontaine leaves Davy to you, praying that 


5 2 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


you will educate her liberally, and put her in a 
position to take care of herself. Also, this house 
cannot be sold as long as Elizabeth Tracy lives, 
for she has right of shelter bequeathed her here for 
her life. Elizabeth has income of her own, enough 
for her moderate wants. Mr. Grace is her trustee 
and you will be put in your aunt’s place as personal 
guardian.” 

“ Even if there were no such provisions,” said Ann, 
who was certainly strong-hearted, “ who would 
think of turning adrift a child, and a hopeless 
cripple ? ” 

“ Do you know,” said Mrs. Gillespie, “ I have felt 
so sorry for you, Miss Bradford. You have led a 
studious literary life in your college, surrounded 
by all the advantages of the city, with no one to 
trespass on your time or cares, and here you are, 
one may say, forced to live in the uncongeniality of 
the dullest of villages, with almost no one compan- 
ionable for you near you, burdened with busi- 
ness cares of no small order, and the charge of two 
very trying girls.” 

“ Do not waste one bit of sympathy on me,” said 
Ann. “The thing I dreaded most was to have 
nothing to do, fo stand all the day idle, while other 
toilers filled the vineyards and white fields. There 
are few things that I am competent to do, but 
this work offered here comes within my limitations. 
It is so clearly offered me by Providence, God has 
so distinctly called me, that I cannot doubt I am 
here because he wants me here. I asked for work : 


IN HIGH W A YS AND HEDGES. 


53 


he gave it. Besides, lately, I have had opened to 
me a new view of life, and my life can be as well 
lived here as anywhere — can reach its fullness here, 
for I think I have learned to want, above all things, 
to grow into the likeness of my Lord.” 

“ The value and efficiency of all our doing,” said 
Mr. Gillespie, “ is in the ratio of our own spiritual 
living. It is open to us to live spiritually anywhere, 
because God is everywhere. Let this mind be in 
you which also was in Christ.” 

“ And what was that mind of Christ ? ” asked Ann, 
earnestly. 

“ A mind,” said Mr. Gillespie, “ in entire harmony 
with the will of the Father. A mind in constant, 
helpful touch with humanity, for its salvation. A 
mind set on eternity.” 

“ It is high. I cannot attain unto it,” said Ann 
Bradford, her eyes growing misty. 

“ So strive,” said Mr. Gillespie, “ and the means 
are yours, God’s word and earnest prayer.” 

When Ann’s guests left, her new household had 
apparently gone to bed. She went to her silent 
room, and lopked out upon the starlit world ; this 
was to be her home for many a day, and final suc- 
cess or defeat, as defeat and success are measured 
in eternity, was to be here achieved. 

The next morning Ann went to the door of the 
dining room, when C’list’an and Maggie had seated 
themselves to take their breakfast, after the family, 
according to the village custom. 

“ Will I disturb you,” she asked, politely, “if I 


54 


TO WARD THE GLORY GATE . 


speak with you while you are eating ? I want to see 
you alone.” 

“ Land sakes, of course you won’t disturb us, 
come sit down by the table,” said C’list’an, taking 
a big bite of toast. 

“ If things are well to be done,” said Ann, “the 
sooner they are done the better, and what changes 
I am to make I will do well to make promptly. 
C’list’an, that room of Miss Elizabeth’s is dull and 
ugly. You and she are in it most of the time — much 
more than you ought to be ; it is enough to make you 
gloomy. I want to brighten up that room with 
white muslin curtains, some pictures and ornaments. 
When can it be done ? ” 

“ Wednesday I clean that room thorough,” said 
C’list’an. “ I wheel ’Lizbeth into the parlor while 
I do it. To-day is Wednesday, and I’m going at 
it soon as I eat. When I get it cleaned, fix it all 
you like.” 

“ We’ll bring down the pictures and curtains then, 
from a box Davy is unpacking for me in the attic. 
We must make the room pleasant, and Miss Eliza- 
beth must be dressed in better taste, # and made to 
look pretty ; then she will not shun people so. As 
soon as I can find a carpenter, I shall have a big 
verandah built across the whole front of the house, 
and the windows of Miss Elizabeth’s room cut down 
to the floor, then I want her wheeled out on the 
verandah when it is pleasant. When we are cutting 
down the windows, we will repaint and paper that 
room, and put down a Brussels carpet. I don’t see 


IN HIGHWA YS AND HEDGES. 


55 

why she should be compelled to contemplate that 
hideous rag carpet.” 

“ Mis’ Fontaine thought rag carpet good enough 
for a sick-room,” said Maggie. 

“ We’ll drop that notion of a sick-room and call 
it Miss Elizabeth’s parlor,” smiled Ann. “ I never 
expect to be as good and unselfish a woman as my 
Aunt Fontaine, but still I may make changes in her 
ways of doing things. If there is any advantage in 
education, and modern improvements, let us have 
the benefit of it.” 

“ Lawk, yes. Do let’s have something new,” said 
C’list’an. 

When Elizabeth’s room had been re-arranged, 
the hideous profiles and old photographic portraits 
exchanged for four or five water-colors, the cur- 
tains draped, a pretty embroidered tablecloth 
replacing an oil-cloth' monstrosity, and the best 
parlor rugs brought to cover, as far as possible, 
the rag carpet, Ann said, “ It only needs flowers.” 
Flowers, however, seemed to have been left out of 
account by Mrs. Fontaine. Mr. Black had pru- 
dently planted some sunflowers for his fowls, and 
Ann helped herself from that golden row. 

Elizabeth condescended to be pleased with her 
renovated room. 

“ I’m glad you took down those hideous people 
from the wall,” she said. “ I hated them so that I 
used to lie and make faces at them.” 

Then she looked at the small square table, relieved 
of its pile of odds and ends, draped with a cover 


56 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

worked in shades of brown and gold, upon it a 
quaint, ancient, brown, narrow-necked jar, rescued 
by Ann from the kitchen closet, and in which shone 
four sunflowers. 

“ I always thought sunflowers so ugly, but those 
really look well.” 

“ No flower is ugly,” said Ann. “ Flowers seem to 
me among the most loving of God’s gifts to us; w r e 
are better for always having them about us.” 

After Ann returned from her visit to Lawyer Grace, 
she took a walk about her house outside several 
times, studying from all points the most pressing im- 
provements needed. When she went in she found 
Elizabeth belligerent. 

“ C’list’an says you mean to build a verandah, cut 
down these windows to the floor, lay a Brussels car- 
pet, and I don’t know what else ! ” she began. 

“ Paint the house and fence, lay a walk up to the 
porch, plant shrubs and flowers, do some inside 
papering — ” 

“ Aunt Fontaine said she never could make im- 
provements out of what income she had. If you 
lay out all that money who is to look out for Davy ? 
Of course I can’t.” 

“ I don’t see why,” said Ann, with the utmost 
coolness. “ You should be willing to share with 
your sister, even to the point of some self-denial.” 

“ Why should I ? I’m worse off than she 
is!” 

“ You’ll be the worst off possible, if you cultivate 
selfishness,” said Ann, “for selfishness is a fearful 


IN HIGHWAYS AND HEDGES. 


57 

distortion of the moral nature. We should all make 
constant endeavor to cultivate graces. I do not 
mind telling you, however, that Davy will be pro- 
vided for as she has been, and that the cost of the 
improvements will be met by a few hundreds of my 
own, that I have in reserve. I have for years been 
obliged to make the most out of every dollar I spent, 
and I think these improvements will be had for the 
least money possible. As the house is mine, im- 
provements are an investment.” 

“ Of course they are. I don’t see as you’re doing 
anything remarkably unselfish ! ” said Elizabeth. 

“ ’Lizbeth Tracy ! ” broke in C’list’an, “ be 
ashamed of yourself, for I’m plumb ashamed of you ! 
Here’s Miss Bradford give you her white curtings and 
picters, an’ not one left for her room.” 

Elizabeth had the grace to look a trifle ashamed, 
as suggested. 

“ If I had no more of these things, Elizabeth,” said 
Ann, “ I should put these in your room, because you 
being shut out from the beauty of the out-of-doors 
world, need them more than I do. These are not 
all I have, however, and I mean also to buy more. I 
shall have nice things in my room, because I think 
every one is healthier, happier, and so better-tem- 
pered, for having a quiet, comfortable, attractive place 
all their own, where they can withdraw a while, 
escape from others, and be alone with themselves and 
God. This quiets the nerves, gives opportunity to 
arrange our lives, and commune with heaven. Christ 
himself gives us example of this withdrawing. He 


58 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 

often went into the mountains alone. What he 
needed, we need much more.” 

“ Did Mr. Grace give you my month’s income ? ” 
snapped Elizabeth, changing the subject promptly. 

“Yes: will you tell me how Aunt Fontaine ar- 
ranged it ? ” 

“ She gave me five dollars for spending-money : 
paid C’list’an, the druggist’s bill, and the laundress 
for me, Davy and C’list’an. But you’ve no right to 
my money; you’re only a strange girl. You are 
to give me the whole of it.” 

“I know,” said Ann, imperturbably, “that I am 
a stranger now, but I shall be less so every day I 
live with you. I am, as you say, a girl, but being 
twenty-three the law sees fit to entrust me with your 
person and property, and the proper formalities have 
been attended to. You are also a girl, but being 
less than sixteen, and left in ward by your grand- 
father, the law does not hold you capable of attend- 
ing to your own finances. Here are your five dol- 
lars; C’list’an, here are your ten dollars for the 
current month, and I shall be obliged to you if you 
will go and pay the laundress to-day. As for the 
druggist, after this I shall see to his bills. I 
do not intend to have Elizabeth drugged. She 
needs air and fresh interests more than medicine. 
Elizabeth, I know you hate those brown and gray 
wrappers, and you have had them a long time. 
Will you not like it, if I go out and get pretty colored 
materials, fine and nice, and pretty embroideries and 
ribbons for you ? I think your things should not be 


IN HIGHWA YS AND HEDGES. 


59 

so plain, they should be made attractive and in 
the new styles.” 

Well,” said C’list’an, “I’ve thought of that, but 
Mis’ Fontaine, she said it was easier for sick folks 
to wear dark or plain things.” 

“We will not consider Miss Elizabeth ‘sick folks/ 
but just a ‘shut in’, to be made as pretty and 
happy as possible. I consider myself well practised 
in the art of making garments, so I will cut out and 
show you; and I see you are a nice needlewoman, 
C’list’an, so we’ll have things improved promptly.” 

Elizabeth felt the risings of gratitude : they were 
yoked with self-condemnation. This irritated her, 
and she poured out her irritation on Ann. 

“You needn’t think you can bribe me ! I fairly 
hate you ! ” 

Ann went up to her room. For a week she had 
been in a state of nervous strain and exaltation : 
she had been planning and hoping overmuch, and was 
just at the point of reaction. Elizabeth’s ill- temper 
was the touch to give the moral pendulum its re- 
bound : Ann threw herself on the bed and cried 
heartily. Then she washed her face and sat down by 
the window. There was no very pretty prospect to 
divert her thoughts, simply a dull village, in the dull 
tints of departing summer. . Ann just waited. She 
had had such seasons before, and she knew the value 
of waiting. Neither joy nor sorrow stand long at 
their highest levels. It is good to wait ; reaction 
will come bitterly, unless we forestall it by a period 
of calm of soul. Wait, not one dip only makes a 


6o 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


Damascus blade. This good, this ill, alternately ele- 
vating and depressing soul temperature, creates heav- 
enly temper, we learn that all has its mission, all 
passes and is ended ; out of alternate high and low 
comes the strong, elastic mean. This is a truth that 
moderates both our pride and our self-abasement. 
Ann read a few verses, beginning, “ Count it all joy 
when ye fall into divers temptations — ” 

“ This is a very good book to live by,” said Ann, 
as the bell rang for dinner. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 

“The trivial round, the common task 
Would give us all we ought to ask; 

Room to deny ourselves, a road 
To bring us daily nearer God.” 

The little shadow and the consequent shower that 
had fallen over Ann Bradford’s new life passed 
away quickly. Ann was courageous, and she had 
the great advantage that her position was independ- 
ent ; she was in her right ; she administered her 
own. If the Tracy girls opposed her, the servants 
speedily adored her ; she brought a cheery life and 
freshness into the house that had long been lacking ; 
they took pride in promised improvements, and 
there was a pleasant courtesy in Ann’s dignity 
which easily won them to second her innovations. 

“ C’list’an,” she said, “ we must try in all ways to 
cheer Miss Elizabeth, and make her brighter and 
more hopeful. We must try and help her self- 
respect and dignity. You came here when she was 
a child, and naturally enough you called her by her 
first name, and reproved her when you thought her 
wrong. But such things in our relationships to 


62 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


people must change, as the years change us all. 
Miss Tracy is growing up : you may live with her 
until she is a middle-aged woman : it would not 
do then to go on calling her, ‘ Elizabeth , 7 and re- 
prehending her. I want you to acquire the habit of 
saying ‘ Miss Elizabeth , 7 and do not undertake any 
reproofs. Also, I think she needs to be alone a 
little, to get better acquainted with herself ; and you 
need a rest from her, too. I want you to take an 
hour, regularly, every day — to leave her and go off 
and do what you like — and once in a month to go for 
the entire afternoon . 77 

“ She’d want a thousand things, soon as I was 
gone.” 

“ I’ll be on hand — to give her fifty , 77 said Ann. 

“Elizabeth,” said Ann, one day when she was 
directing C’list’an in making and trimming Eliza- 
beth’s new garments, and the girl was evidently try- 
ing to think of the thousand demands for attention, 
“ suppose, my dear, that you try and think how many 
little attentions you can do without. When you 
have thought of that for a while, think of the 
Chinese, or the Esquimaux or the South Sea 
Islanders, or the planet Jupiter, of anything except 
yourself. To limit one’s doing and thinking to the 
five or six feet of dust, which make up our corpo- 
rate being, does not encourage any great altitude of 
soul.” 

Such remarks from Ann could not fail to set 
Elizabeth to thinking. Elizabeth was not always 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 63 

in a bad humor : there were times when she was 
sweet and sunny, other times when she was peni- 
tent for her irritability and ingratitude. In one such 
hour, watching Ann, who was carefully instructing 
C’list’an in the making of a lovely wrapper for Eliza- 
beth, the girl said, — 

“ Cousin Ann, I thought perhaps you’d never 
come near me again, when I said I hated you.” 

“ I have to come near you,” said Ann, “ you and 
I are obliged to live together, and we might as well 
live on good terms with each other. It would be 
very foolish of me to take umbrage at every little 
irritable remark you make. If we bear and forbear 
we may come to love each other well. As for me, 
if I took offence easily, I should not be following 
my Master. ‘ Who, when he was reviled, reviled not 
again ; when he suffered, he threatened not.’ Think 
how he must have had to endure and to forgive 
every hour, surrounded as he was by sinful human- 
ity. Think how he hourly bears with us. Are you 
a Christian, Elizabeth ? ” 

“ Of course I’m a Christian,” cried the easily- 
provoked Elizabeth. “ Do you think that I’m an 
infidel or an idiot because I have spinal trouble ? ” 

“I don’t suppose,” said Ann, calmly, “that your 
spine is bound to interfere with your moral nature 
one way or the other. I only asked, because it does 
not seem to me that you are living up to the fine 
possibilities of spiritual life. You could reach the 
highest heights of spiritual living, and yet I know 
that you have more hindrances and less helps than 


64 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


others. It is true, as a French writer says, ‘ Our 
body is a beast, and when the beast is vexed the 
soul within it is vexed.’ Then too, you are shut 
out of all church privileges : the house of God is a 
grand school of instruction, to build us up in spirit- 
ual life : the assembling ourselves together with 
other Christians is helpful, as well as the sermon. I 
have been thinking Elizabeth, that you must have 
some Sabbath help : I hope soon to invite six or 
eight girls of your and Davy’s age, to meet here 
Sunday afternoons to sing, and to study the Pil- 
grim’s Progress, looking out all the texts referred to, 
and reading notes upon the work : I have several 
good editions with copious, helpful notes ; that has 
always been a favorite book of mine.” 

“ I shouldn’t like that at all ! I can’t bear girls,” 
cried Elizabeth. 

“ You’ll like it after we begin : you will like the 
girls after you come to know them,” said Ann, with 
a quietness that denoted that she was not to be 
turned from her purpose. 

“ There is another thing, Elizabeth : tell me, did 
aunt have prayers ? ” 

“Yes: she did.” 

“ I thought so : every Christian household should 
have its altar. Well, we’ll begin to-morrow, Sunday 
morning, and have prayers immediately before 
breakfast in the dining room. I knew it was my 
duty, but I have been shrinking from doing it. You 
may not think it, but there is in me a deal of shy- 
ness and backwardness about doing such duties — I 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 65 

have hated to call Maggie, and C’list’an, and Mr. 
Black in, especially Mr. Black.” 

“ Leave him out, then,” saifl Elizabeth, with some 
sympathy. Her way was, if a thing was unpleasant, 
not to do it. 

“ That will not do,” said Ann, “ he is one of the 
family : he eats our bread, he has a right to share 
with us the bread of life.” 

“ How desperately humdrum you are here ! ” cried 
Davy, who had come in swinging her hat, and stood 
looking at the sewing and hearing the talk. All 
seemed to be for Elizabeth, nothing for her ; it had 
always been so. “ Of course,” went on Davy, pas. 
sionately, “ Elizabeth has to be hurjidrum, tied up to 
a chair and one room, but I’m surprised at you, Ann 
Bradford — you’ve been to college, you’ve lived in 
the city : if I had been in your place I wouldn’t have 
bound myself to live in this horrid village for all the 
money Aunt Fontaine left.” 

“ I did not come for the money, Davy,” said Ann, 
“ I wanted to fill some place in life, to do some work, 
and I should have come if there had been no 
money, only just my living. Some one was needed 
here, and God sent me.” 

“ I wish he’d send me away, then ! I’d rather 
sweep streets in the city than rust out here ! I want 
to learn things, to be somebody. I could do some- 
thing great, if I had half of a chance. I want to 
study and go to college ! ” 

“ Well, Davy, if you behave yourself, maybe I’ll 
send you,” said Elizabeth, patronizingly. 

S 


66 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ Yes, you say that one day and unsay it the 
next. You’ve said you would and you wouldn’t a 
hundred times ! Oh,*I can’t bear all this. I often 
think I’ll run away.” 

“ To the city ? ” said Ann. “ Why run, when you 
can get there without ? I want you to go to the 
city, to be educated in the city ; I think that is the 
place for you.” 

“ Send Davy to the city ! ” cried Elizabeth. 
“ What for ? What good would she get there ? 
What would she learn that she can’t here ? ” 

“ Oh,” said Ann, speaking cheerily, to relieve the 
tension of everybody’s feelings, “ she could learn to 
glide through a crowd without elbowing her neigh- 
bor ; to go quickly without treading on men’s toes or 
women’s trains, to dodge horses trotting at full 
speed, and electric cars sweeping about curves ; she 
could learn neither to crush nor to be crushed ; in 
fine, all the gifts and graces that could be cultivated 
by civilization and asphalt pavements.” 

4< Perhaps you mean to send her to clerk in a store 
or be a cash girl,” sneered Elizabeth, whom this 
conversation did not suit. 

“ No, I do not. I mean to send her to be educated 
in my own university, in the city. I expect her to 
do better than I did, to stand at the head, to lead 
her class, to be valedictorian ; it is in you, Davy, 
I know it is.” 

Davy ’s eyes glowed with ecstasy. 

“ Where’s the money coming from ? ” said Eliz- 
abeth. 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN 


67 

Ann ignored Elizabeth, and looked at Davy. “ If 
I had known, Davy, that you were breaking your 
heart, I should have explained matters before. I 
have been very dull. You are fourteen. This year 
you can study with me and with Mr. Gillespie. Then 
next year you must go to the university. You must 
have a tutor, and spend a year in getting a first-rate 
fit, then four years in- the College of Liberal Arts. 
Then you will be twenty, graduated, and able to 
make your way in the world. No doubt you’ll have 
to economize ; I did. We can find enough but not 
a superfluity. This college training is not to be 
conditioned on Elizabeth’s whims, nor on your 
pleasing Elizabeth. I shall send you to college. 
It is not to be conditioned on your pleasing or 
liking me. You are to go all the same : Aunt 
Fontaine left particular request that you should 
be educated. The only thing that will cut your 
career at college short, so far as I am concerned, will 
be your neglecting your work, or wasting your time. 
If, when I send you to attend the university in an 
independent life, under your own control, as I did, 
I find that you are not doing well that way, I shall 
transfer you to a girl’s college. I think, if you set 
yourself to grow in sense and womanliness this year, 
you will do very well, with some of the girls I know 
there to advise you a bit. I have dreamed, Davy, 
of sending you there next year, to my own old rooms, 
to take up life as I lived it, and I can live the 
college days I loved over again in you ! ” 

Davy stood dazed, rejoicing, yet suspicious. 


68 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

" You mean it ? You won’t go back on it ? ” 

“ Certainly I mean it, and shall not alter my in- 
tentions.” 

“ Well, if Aunt Fontaine left money for my edu- 
cation, it is mine by right, and no thanks to any one, 
and I ought to have been told of it before ! ” cried 
Davy, stamping her foot. 

“ It was not &?quest, Davy, but request,” said 
Ann, quietly. 

“ Oh,” said Davy, blankly. “ Well, I’m much 
obliged to you.” 

“ I don’t want you to be much obliged. I want 
the time to come when you will lovingly take it for 
love’s sake. There, C’list’an, ruffle that lace all 
around the yoke so, and it will be very pretty.” Ann 
went to the kitchen to interview Maggie. 

Elizabeth and Davy looked at each other. 

“ Isn’t she queer ? ” 

“ I should say so ! ” 

“ Anyway, Davy, if it’s college education makes 
her so, I only hope it will have the same effect on 
you, you need it.” 

“ College education ! ” burst forth C’list’an wrath- 
fully, biting off a thread and proceeding to ruffle 
lace. “ College education ! Air you two girls born 
dunces ? Can't you see it’s her religion that does 
it ? Hers is a kind of religion that works out. I 
wish you two Tracy girls had it, I’m sure ! ” 

The work on the house began. Ann Bradford 
was not fond of delays. Elizabeth was, for a few 
days, removed to the back parlor, and when she 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 69 

returned to her room, new paper, carpet, and long 
windows, bore witness to Ann’s zeal in her invalid’s 
behalf. Elizabeth did not consider it good policy to 
seem too much pleased. “The room,” she said, 
“ is all very well, but you needn’t expect me to use 
that verandah. Do you think I’ll go out there for 
everyone to stare at ? ” 

“ As soon as the porch is built,” said Ann, “ I 
shall plant roses, honeysuckle, wistaria and moon- 
flowers to climb upon it ; you will not be exposed 
to the public, you wilt sit in a little green bower.” 

“ I shan’t like it,” said Elizabeth. “ What have 
you put that little bookcase here for, with its empty, 
staring shelves ? ” 

“ To be filled,” said Ann, promptly. “ I have a 
box of my father’s books in the attic, and a box of my 
own books, that are coming from college, and there 
will be a box of Arthur Douglas’s books sent here 
with his things. I like books in every room. I have 
a case full, Upstairs, in my room. I will have some 
in the parlor. I mean to call the parlor the library. 
I don’t care for a parlor in the modern sense of a 
room for stray company. In the old French idea of 
a conversation or talking room it does very well. I 
shall put some books in this case, Elizabeth, and 
you will like to buy some for yourself, perhaps.” 

“ Why should Arthur Douglas’s things come 
here ? ” cried Elizabeth. 

“ Because Arthur himself is coming here, to live, 
for two or three years at least. Aunt left him to 
me, and if I am to bring him up I must have him 


70 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


where I can know what he is like, poor little mother- 
less, homeless man ! ” 

“ I won’t have him here ! So I won’t ! ” cried 
Elizabeth. 

“ He shall not be allowed to annoy you, he shall 
not intrude upon your room,” said Ann, firmly, 
“ but you cannot control the whole house, Elizabeth. 
I must consider what is good for each one. This 
little boy will grow up to manhood, and if his boy- 
hood is ill-directed, the world will miss one good 
man which it needs, and have one more bad man, 
when bad men are over plenty.” 

“ Aunt Fontaine was better than you,” stormed 
Elizabeth, “ and she did not have Arthur here.” 

“ She was old and had a fatal disease ; she was 
unused to boys. I am young, strong, and a lover of 
boys. I hope we shall find this little boy a pleasant 
member of our household. As a matter of economy, 
I should have him here. The school here will be 
a good one for him for three years. In that time a 
hundred a year will maintain him, making a saving 
of two hundred and fifty each year on what he has 
cost aunt. That seven hundred and fifty dollars 
will pay all his expenses for two years at a fitting- 
school for college. If I have Arthur and Davy both 
to send to college, I must be as good a manager as 
possible, or my income will not hold out. When 
Davy goes, next year, I shall sell the horse and sur- 
rey and save that expense. Aunt needed a vehicle. 
I do not. This year I shall keep it as a luxury.” 

“ Well, I don’t care what you do with that for I 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 


7 * 

can’t use it, but it is horrid of you to fill up the house 
with boys.” 

“ Elizabeth, do you remember who said, ‘ Whoso 
receiveth one such little child in my name receiveth 
me ’ ? Try to look at it that way. Welcome 
Arthur entirely for Christ’s sake, and a blessing 
will come into your heart for it.” 

“ I don’t believe it,” said Elizabeth ; “ and here 
I am so helpless ! I have to stay and be imposed 
on every way ! If you starved me I’d have to stand 
it ; ” and the poor nervous child’s tears began to 
roll down upon the beautiful, lace-trimmed, blue 
wrapper, with which Ann had delighted to make her 
fine. 

“ Cheer up, dear, it will be better than you 
think,” said Ann. “ I am glad you like your room, 
and we’ll try to fill the bookcase to suit you. 
What do you study, Elizabeth ? ” 

“ I study ? Nothing. Why should I study ? 
What good would it do me ? I read a great deal.” 

“ Are your eyes weak ? ” 

“ No ; very strong.” 

“ Then why not study ? The. good it would do 
you would be to strengthen and refine your mind, 
elevate your thoughts, make you good company for 
yourself and for other people, and also useful to 
others. I heard of a person, room-bound as you 
are, who was' the intellectual leader of the town 
where she lived. You might become highly culti- 
vated. You have time, good eyes, money for books, 
why not fit yourself to be a thought-leader here ? 


72 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

It is always pleasant to have influence. In a few 
years you could organize reading and study clubs, 
and have them meet with you, and you could direct 
their work. This would afford you considerable 
occupation, and he that is occupied is happy.” 

“ What should I study ? ” asked Elizabeth, some- 
what attracted by these suggestions. “ Do you 
mean me to tie myself down to arithmetic or 
chemistry, and all that stuff ? ” she added fretfully. 

“ I should say study history, literature and 
French. When you can read French well, study 
Italian. It is worth while to study Italian to be 
able to read Silvio Pellico’s Mie Prigione in his own 
words. You will be able to gather up a deal of 
scientific knowledge from your general reading; 
biography is a branch of historic reading.” 

“I had a lot of paper books here,” said Eliza- 
beth, looking about ; “ what did you do with them ? ” 
“ C’list’an put them on the top shelf of the 
closet. Some of them were good and worth read- 
ing, some of them — most of them — are trash, serving 
only to make you morbid, unrestful, weak-minded. 
It is open to you, dear Elizabeth, to be strong- 
minded if you are bodily weak.” 

“ There are old Mrs. Gates and Mrs. Percy com- 
ing out of their door, Ann, and I believe they are 
coming to see you. It will take them fifteen minutes 
to get across their yard and the street. How Mrs. 
Gates hobbles ! She’d better stay in, as I do ! 
C’list’an, do you know how old Mrs. Gates is ? ” 

“ How old Mis’ Gates is ? Of course I do. 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 


73 


She’s just as old as she can be. How do I know 
that ? Well, she was right smart of a woman when 
me an Mis’ Fontaine first came here, and that’s 
years and years ago. Mr. Gates was alive then ; 
he was one of the kind of men that are so good he 
wa’n’t good for anything. Folks do say that he 
wa’n’t half so good as he pretended, and cheated 
his neighbors terribly.” 

“C’list’an,” said Ann Bradford, sternly, “that is 
gossip, and gossip is indecent and unchristian. The 
Bible says that he only shall dwell in God’s holy 
hill ‘that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor 
taketh up a reproach against his neighbor.’ Go to 
the door, please ; — shall they be asked in here, Eliza- 
beth, or in the parlor ? ” Elizabeth glanced at 
her new wrapper and her freshly ornamented room. 
“ In here,” she said, and Ann was glad. Ann did 
not believe that a well-rounded Christian character 
could be built up in a surly withdrawal from 
humanity. “ The Son of man came eating and 
drinking,” and was not ashamed to be called “ the 
friend of publicans and sinners.” 

Elizabeth noted that Ann’s cordial welcome of 
her callers had not the stiffness usual in Dillburg 
society. She met them with extended hands, say- 
ing, “ I am so glad to meet the aunts of my friend, 
Dorothy Camp ! Now you shall be the very first to 
sit in these chairs, which C’list’an and I have just 
finished upholstering, and you were the first to 
come over the new walk which Mr. Black finished 
about fifteen minutes ago.” 


74 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“Yes, we waited,” said Mrs. Gates. “I’m not 
very firm on my feet, and I was afraid I’d stumble 
on the bits of board.” 

“ You’re in no danger now. Mr. Black is skillful 
with tools and proud of it ; he has made us a first- 
rate walk. We waited to get tile pieces left from 
the verandah. I have to be very economical in my 
improvements.” 

“ That big verandah, all across the house front, 
and eight feet wide, is an improvement,” said Mrs. 
Percy, “ and these long windows from Elizabeth’s 
room ! Elizabeth, how nice and bright you look 
here ! You can use the verandah, if you can’t the 
walk.” 

“ I am not hopeless of seeing Elizabeth marching 
down to the gate some day. I’ve seen stranger things 
happen. Who knows?” said Ann. 

“ * Never give up, it is wiser and better 
Always to hope than once to despair,’ ” 

quoted Mrs. Gates, who was old-fashioned, and held 
Tupper to be the chief of poets. “ Are you going 
to do anything else ? ” 

“ We mean to have the house and fence painted 
at once,” said Ann, who fairly revelled in her im- 
provements. 

“ What color ? ” asked Mrs. Gates, eagerly. 

“ White with green blinds,” said Ann, “ I think 
that looks best in a village, and it wears better 
than any other paint. After I use up the money I 
have now for improvements I don’t know when I 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 


75 


shall ever put on paint again, so I want a lasting 
kind.” 

“ Sister Percy,” said Mrs. Gates, “ I don’t know 
but we’d better put on our house two coats of paint, 
come spring. It needs it, but I didn’t care to have 
ours the only house in staring new paint.” 

“ As soon as the painting is done,” said Ann, " I 
want to plant vines about the verandah. There’s a 
fine white honeysuckle on the back fence that I 
can transplant ; do you know of any one here who 
can let me have a climbing rose ? I warn you, I’m 
going to beg vines, seeds and shrubs, if there are any, 
for while they cost much to buy, it does one no 
harm to give them ; they grow better for division, 
a practical example of the text, “ There is that 
scattereth, and yet increaseth.” 

“ We’ve got a fine running rose over our well 
lattice, and you shall have a good root of it. People 
in this place don’t do much with flowers and lawns, 
We have about the best and we’ll be glad to share 
with you. The view from both houses will be pret- 
tier if we both cultivate our yards. We look to get 
many new notions from you, Miss Bradford.” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Gates. “ Our niece Dorothy is 
a college girl too, and Dorothy comes here full of 
new ideas. It is most like having a foreign tour to 
have her here. We’re looking for great things from 
you ! ” 

“ Oh, but I’m not like Dorothy,” said Ann, “ she 
writes ; she is literary ; a genius, she is going to be 
famous. I am very proud to be her friend. She 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


76 

has been a great help to me. I am very common- 
place, I have no talents at all, but some common 
sense, if you call that a talent ; and I think I have 
a natural gift for economizing, and for keeping a 
place in order. At least I’m very much enjoying 
renovating this place.” 

“ If you set a good example a good many may 
follow it. This is the only nice big verandah in 
Dillburg, for instance ; but when the neighbors see 
how pleasant it is, they may copy it. There 
haven’t many called yet on you ; they’ll be slow 
about it on account of your being from the city and 
college. When they find you are friendly they will 
come, and you’ll like them, if they are only village 
people,” said Mrs. Gates. 

“ I expect to find them the very best kind,” said 
Ann, “ and now I am numbered among village 
people myself it won’t do for me to run them 
down. ” 

Then the month’s magazines, which Dorothy al- 
ways sent to her aunts, came under discussion. 
Then Ann asked about the church work. Was 
there a Christian Temperance Union ? a Missionary 
Society ? a Ladies’ Prayer Meeting ? 

“ Dear knows there was ,” said Mrs. Gates, “ but 
they’ve all petered out. Mrs. Gillespie is trying 
hard to revive the Missionary Society, but it is in a 
dreadful dead state ; and Mrs. Fontaine was a great 
loss to us.” 

“ We must all take hold of the church work, and 
make it go” said Ann. “ Dorothy was telling me 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 


77 


about a Missionary Reading Club which she started 
somewhere, and found a fine help. Of course we 
are not greatly interested in subjects of which we 
know very little. Now I have Aunt Fontaine’s 
heathen girl on my hands, I expect to be very much 
interested in Missions.” 

The callers remained for nearly an hour, and 
Elizabeth seemed really interested in the conver- 
sation. As soon as they were gone Mr. Black 
brought round the surrey for Ann to go to the sta- 
tion to meet little Arthur Douglas. 

“ Mrs. Fontaine was timid of the horse, and al- 
ways wanted me to drive,” said Mr. Black. 

Ann laughed as she glanced at the staid-looking 
roan. 

“ I fancy I can manage that animal,” she said. 
“ Tell Maggie I will not be back until tea-time.” 

Ann meant to get acquainted with “ her boy ” 
before she came home. When the few passengers 
left the train, it was not hard to sort out Arthur 
Douglas, as he was the only boy who arrived. 

“You’re my boy, evidently,” Ann said, “how are 
you, Arthur ? ” 

He was a stout, freckled little lad, with hair cut 
in no particular fashion, and of no particular color, 
but he had big, laughing, blue eyes, and looked 
frankly in one’s face. 

“ Ho ! you Miss Bradford ! Ain’t I glad you ain’t 
old ! ” 

“ So ! Don’t you like old folks ? That’s a pity. 
I expect to be old sometime.” 


78 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

11 Oh, but I’m tired of being brought up by old 
folks ! Prex and all the teachers at the school were 
old.” 

•V 

“ Pitiful that,” said Ann ; “ well, we’re all young 
here. I want to go out driving. Can you drive ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” shouted Arthur, who had never driven 
two miles in his life, “course I can. All boys 
can.” 

“ I think I’ll sit on the front seat with you, we’ll 
get acquainted faster,” said Ann, wuth an eye to 
watching the reins. “ Give that man your checks ; 
turn up this street. There now.” 

“ How many folks are there at your house ? ” 
asked Arthur. 

“ Three, and three servants. Davida, whom we call 
Davy, is about fourteen, and I think if she has some 
one to frolic with, you may find-her lively. I’m Miss 
Bradford, and I expect to be minded, but I’m a 
reasonable person and not hard to get on with. 
Elizabeth is a sick cripple. You must never go to 
her room unless she invites you, and when there, 
do just as she wants you to. As she is so unfor- 
tunate we all humor her somewhat. Of course a 
gentleman of your age never goes into any one’s 
room without knocking, and always treats servants 
with perfect politeness.” 

“ Whoop ! ” said Arthur, “ at school, we just tore 
in and out rooms, and we fairly bawled at the serv- 
ants, and made them jump.” 

“ You’ll turn over a new leaf at my house,” said 
Ann, calmly. “ Did you like school ? ” 


THE SUMMER AND THE SUN. 


79 

“ Oh, sorter — they were too strict. Wouldn’t let 
* you climb trees.” 

“ Not ? I hope that here you’ll climb all you 
want to, trees, fences, houses ; have you a foot- 
ball ? ” 

“ Yes, Prex never let me use it hardly. It’s new.” 

“ I hope you and Davy will use it every day. 
Baseball ? ” 

“ No. They wouldn’t let us have it, said we’d 
break windows.” 

“ Pitiful that. Suppose you and Davy go out 
after tea, and you buy a ball and two bats, and she 
buys a croquet set ? ” 

“ Now you’re talking ! ” cried Arthur, nearly 
driving into a ditch. “ Say, do you believe in pic- 
nics an’ ’lasses candy ? ” 

“ Doat on them,” said Ann, as the horse rambled 
into a fence. 

“ Look closely at the horse and keep the reins 
straight, Arthur. Do you like books ? Do you like 
to study ? ” 

“ Well, yes, when it’s school hours I do, and I 
just love to read.” 

“ Ever read your Bible ? ” 

“ They made us read it ’n hour every Sunday. I 
think it’s dull.” 

“ You do ? Why, as your father and mother are 
in heaven, I should think you’d enjoy knowing how 
and in what kind of a place they live ; the Bible is 
the only book that can tell you that.” 

“Why, I didn’t know it told about that” said 
Arthur. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 

“ The path of Sorrow and that path alone, 

Leads to the land where sorrows are unknown.” 

This was the first ride Ann Bradford had taken 
about Dillburg ; as she was not nervous, her pleasure 
was but little disturbed by the erratic fashion of 
Arthur’s driving. They were in a state of high good- 
fellowship when they reached the home-gate, and 
Arthur at once repaired to the barn, to “ help ” Mr. 
Black unharness. He was much more interested in 
the horse and barn, than in the yet unknown mem- 
bers of the family, though he informed Mr. Black 
that he thought Miss Bradford pretty jolly, and not 
the scary kind. 

The fresh air and the sweet country scenes had 
brought light to Ann’s eyes, and a flush to her 
cheeks. The waysides and pasture lands had 
broken into the splendor of late-summer bloom ; the 
golden-rod and asters stood gorgeous as the “ blue 
and purple from the isles of Elishah.” The long 
narrow valleys were brilliant with the tangles of 
blackberry vines, the leaves and stems crimson in 
the transfiguring light ; the sturdy white masses of 
80 


THE SHADOWS OH THE WAY. 81 

boneset, the tall lobelias, and the dashing colors of 
the black-eyed Susan. The eye, content, followed 
the windings of this river of flowers, while even the 
rolling, closely nipped hillside pastures took soft 
shades of bronze, green, and brown under the 
sunset.” 

“ We had such a lovely ride,” said Ann, as she 
took off her hat, “ I did not know the country about 
here was so beautiful j ” 

“ Well, who admires things round Dillburg must 
have admiration for sale,” said Calista Ann, pre- 
paring to roll Elizabeth’s chair into the dining room. 

At tea Arthur and Davy eyed one another like a 
pair of little pug-dogs who did not know whether to 
snarl and bite, or make friends. Ann intervened : 
“ As soon as tea is over I want you to run down 
town, and Davy will buy a croquet set, and Arthur 
baseball and bats. You must have something to 
amuse yourselves and your friends with.” 

“ H’m,” said Davy, “ I’d much rather have ten- 
nis i ” 

“ So had I ! ” cried Arthur. 

u I can’t afford tennis,” said Ann. “ I have to 
get what I have money to pay for. Perhaps by next 
spring you can get your friends interested, and can 
form a tennis club, and buy in partnership the net 
and rackets, and I’ll have Mr. Black make you a 
court. Tennis is a nice game.” 

“Aunt Fontaine would have thought spending 
money on games about sacrilegious,” said Elizabeth, 
curling her lips. 


82 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ It was only that Aunt Fontaine was in feeble 
health, and long past the age of play, and I am not/ 7 
said Ann. 

When Arthur and Davy had returned with their 
purchases and laid them on the verandah, they sat 
down on the steps. Ann opened the windows of 
Elizabeth’s room, and sat outside near them. C’lis- 
t’an had started down the road with a man, a big 
fellow, with slouching shoulders, and a careless 
gait. 

“ That’s her brother,” said Davy, “ he’s no account, 
but she thinks her eyes of him. He gives her no 
end of trouble.” 

“ I tell you what I want,” said Arthur, “ I w'ant it 
more than anything — that’s a violin.” 

“ Have you ever had any pocket-money allow- 
ance ? ” asked Ann. 

“ Nary ! ” cried Arthur. “ Prex said boys only 
got in mischief if they had money. Once I wrote 
Aunt Fontaine why she didn’t give me a little now 
and then, an’ she wrote, there was none to spare, 
and I didn’t need it, s’long as I was provided for.” 

“ Just so with me 1” said Davy, finding a common 
grievance. 

“ Now an’ then I had a nickel or a dime, an’ 
once a boy’s father, where I visited, gave us each a 
quarter,” said Arthur. 

“ I think you should both have some regular 
pocket money. You will learn, in using it, how to 
save, how to spend, how to give. I can afford you 
very little, but something is better than nothing. I 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 83 

will give you each sixty cents, on the first of every 
month.” 

Arthur made a rapid calculation. “It would take 
nearly two years saving up, to buy a violin out of 
that,” he said. 

“ Probably you would not want to save every 
penny so long as that. Then what would you give 
away ? One pleasure of having money is to give of 
our own,” replied Ann.' 

“ Much a body could give out of sixty cents ! ” 
cried Davy. 

“ One could give the tithe, according to the Scrip- 
tures — that would be six cents,” suggested Ann. 

“ That would be a big share out of sixty cents,” 
said Davy. 

“ One should never give grudgingly. If you did 
not feel eyen glad to give that much of your own, 
then you had better think of it, and pray over it, 
until you * offered willingly.’ ” 

“ Pray over six cents ! The idea ! ” cried 
Davy. 

“Do you suppose a sparrow in Jerusalem, in 
Christ’s time, was worth six cents? In fact two 
were worth only a farthing. Yet Christ said that 
God took thought for them. Besides, Davy, it is 
not ‘ only six cents ’ that is involved, it is a moral 
principle. It is not only giving, but consecration of 
ourselves, and what is ours, to God. Of course it is 
worth praying over. We need to pray over every- 
thing, great and small. To God nothing is small, 
nothing is great, all our soul affairs are priceless.” 


84 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

“ Do you pray over — everything ? ” asked Davy, 
curiously. 

“ Yes. I hope I do. I wish to,” replied Ann. 

“ S’pose I wouldn’t be good, or mind you,” 
Arthur put it bluntly, “ would you pray over 
me ? ” 

“ Certainly ! I should pray for wisdom and grace 
to manage you ; and for you that better sense and 
rightness of mind might be given to you.” 

“ Well, I wouldn’t like to be prayed over,” said 
Arthur, uneasily. 

“Nor I,” said Davy, with conviction. 

“ Why, you poor, dear children ! Don’t you sup- 
pose you have ever been prayed for ? ” 

“No, no,” they said in chorus. 

“ Surely you have. Aunt Fontaine no doubt prayed 
for you every day. Your parents, while they lived, 
prayed for you. More than that, Jesus Christ prays 
for you. Christ is no partial Master ; do you not 
remember how he said to Peter, ‘ I have prayed for 
thee that thy faith fail not ! ’ If he prayed for 
Peter, he prays for you. Then, too, after the last 
supper in his prayer, our Lord said : ‘ Neither pray 
’ I for these alone, but for all them also which shall 
believe on me through their word.’ Jesus is always 
bearing you in his heart.” 

There was a silence. When it had lasted long 
enough, Ann said, “ Arthur, if you love a violin, you 
must have a musical ear, and can sing ? ” 

“ Oh, I can sing,” said Arthur. “ Some one said if 
I was in the city, I could get my teaching and some 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 85 

money, for being a choir boy. Then I could earn 
enough for a violin.” 

“ There is no opportunity for being a choir boy 
here,” said Ann ; “ but no doubt there will be ways in 
which you can earn money. I like to see boys earn 
money ; it teaches them how many cents there are 
in a dollar ; and they learn, by earning, to spend 
money more judiciously. I don’t like to see boys 
grasping after every cent they can see or hear of, 
but I do like to see them industrious and ready to 
earn.” 

“ Will you pay me for doing things ? ” demanded 
Arthur. 

“ No,” said Ann, “ your allowance will be all the 
money I can afford you ; and I think, as a member 
of the family, you should be glad to do what you 
can to help affairs move on well. In fact, we are all 
pretty industrious here, and I think you should do 
something in the way of work every day. I was just 
thinking of asking you and Davy to build me two 
rockeries, one on each side of the gate. There are 
plenty of stones and such material, in a corner, way 
at the back of the lot ; you can bring them around 
in the wheelbarrow. It may take you, what time you 
want to spend on work during a week to build two 
nice rockeries. I don’t want them laid up like walls. 
I will show you my idea when you begin. A great 
many plants grow best in rockeries, especially wild 
plants. Some day in late September we will spend 
in the woods, getting all kinds of roots and ferns for 
the rockeries, and early in the spring we’ll go again.” 


86 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE „ 


“ Aunt Fontaine never would let me go to the 
woods,” said Davy ; “ she said they were damp, and 
that there were snakes there.” 

“ I’m not afraid of snakes; very few of them are 
poisonous,” said Ann. “ We’ll go to the woods often. 
In the frosty days we will go nutting, and have nuts 
for winter evenings. I like to make nut candy. Do 
you ? ” 

“ Yes, and popcorn balls,” said Davy. “ Mr. 
Black planted me some popcorn.” 

“ Now I know how you can earn some money, 
both of you,” said Ann, “for yourselves, for Sun- 
day-school, and missionary money too, if you like. 
You can make popcorn balls, and nut candy, and 
pulled molasses candy, and sell it in little boxes at 
the grocery.” 

“ Why y-y-y ! ” screamed Davy, “ Maggie would 
never let us make candy in her clean kitchen, in the 
world ! ” 

Ann was about to respond that she would settle 
Maggie as to the kitchen, when she prudently con- 
sidered that it is well to hasten slowly, that she her- 
self was a new-comer, and Maggie an old servant ; 
also that domestic peace is worth a deal, and serv- 
ants have their rights as well as other people ; there- 
fore she said calmly : “ The kitchen ! It will be a 
deal more fun to build a brick fireplace, under that 
big tree at the back of the garden, and do your 
cooking out there. ” 

“ S’pose it rains ? ” said Arthur. 

“ Build a shed over it,” said Ann, indefinitely. 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 87 

“ Ain’t you jolly ! I always wanted to build a 
shed,” said Arthur, and he turned handsprings down 
to the gate and back. 

There was a sigh from within the room. “ What 
can / do ? ” said Elizabeth, bitterly. “ There’s never 
anything good for me ! ” 

“ Dear Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ you can joy in 
their joy ; you can make suggestions, you can buy 
their candy. It is often hard to begin to live in 
others, but lovely when you’re used to it.” 

“ I suppose I’ll have to get used to it,” sighed 
Elizabeth. 

“ You, more than the rest of us, can reach the 
mind of Christ, in being fully in harmony with the 
Father’s will, as you are given to drink this bitter 
cup,” said Ann. “‘The cup that my Father hath 
given me, shall I not drink it ? ’ ” 

When she was alone in her room, Ann looked out 
into the moonlight night, that subdued in its soft 
splendor the baldness of the unbeautiful village. 
Much indeed there was for her to learn, to do, to 
teach, but Jesus “ began to do and to teach ” also, 
and there was the continual privilege of prayer. 
She whispered to herself : “ Surely as Tabor is 
among the mountains and Carmel by the sea, my . 
Lord ever liveth to intercede for me, and he hath 
known my soul in adversity ! ” And the prayer 
arose : “ Despite my ignorance, dulness, and inexpe- 
rience, Lord, let a true gospel message, clear, sweet 
and strong, go forth from my soul to these others.” 

Ann Bradford was young, strong, of an elastic 


88 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


enterprising temper. As she said, she was common- 
place, and she found pleasure in the daily common 
affairs of life. This was fortunate for the family to 
which she had fallen heir; ability to enjoy the ad- 
ministration of the commonplace secures order, 
comfort and economy in homes, creates abundance 
out of small supplies. Ann felt a certain glow and 
joy of possession, in knowing that this plain home 
and all in it was her own, and she gave herself 
heartily to improving and making the best of things. 
Mrs. Fontaine had cared little for beauty or variety 
in her home, the loss' of friends, the crime of a 
brother, the long insanity of her sister, had shad- 
owed her life, and made her older even than her 
years. Of song, laughter, amusements, little recrea- 
tions and indulgences, she knew nothing. Duty and 
high principles had filled her days, but tenderness 
and concessions were out of her range. With Eliza- 
beth’s sufferings she could sympathize, and she 
exhibited her sympathy by spoiling the girl in a way 
that damaged her both morally and physically. 
With a boy, like Arthur, she had no sympathy at 
all ; she supposed that all a boy needed was food, 
clothes and shelter, with education enough to enable 
him to earn his living. So with Davy, Mrs. Fontaine 
had no comprehension of Davy’s needs outside of 
bed and bread. Ann experienced the advantage of 
some of Mrs. Fontaine’s repressive training. There 
was a deal that Davy did not expect. Ann also ex- 
perienced the evil of her aunt’s system, for Davy 
was ungrateful, ill-tempered, suspicious. 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 89 

One morning, while Davy and Arthur were busy 
building the proposed rockeries, one of the little 
girls of the village came to the gate, saying : “ I 
have come to ask you to my party — to-morrow at 
three ; my birthday party. I want you both.” 

“ Jolly ! ” cried Arthur. 

“ We can’t come,” said Davy, “ at least I can’t.” 

Ann had come out to speak to Letty, and said : 
“ Why, Davy ! of course you can go, it will be real 
pleasant for you.” 

“ I say I can’t go, and that ends it,” said Davy, 
turning away. 

“ Davy,” asked Ann, when Letty had gone on, 
“ why do you say you can’t go to the party ? ” 

“Because I do, and I can’t and I won’t; “and 
upstairs marched Davy, evidently striving not to 
cry. 

Ann went to Elizabeth. Elizabeth was under a 
fresh air regimen ; her windows were open, and she 
sat near them. Of course she had heard all that 
passed. 

“ Why won’t Davy go to the party ? ” asked Ann. 
“ Her life is too dull.” 

“ It’s because she hasn’t proper clothes,” said 
Elizabeth. “ The others will have thin dresses, 
white, pink or blue, and ribbons and lace. Aunt 
Fontaine never would get such things for Davy. A 
brown sateen, a check gray gingham, some dull- 
colored wool gown is all Davy has. Aunt got what 
would wear, and not foster Davy’s vanity. She 
scolded Davy like everything once, for asking for a 


9 o 


TO WA RD THE GL OR Y G A TE. 


strip of velvet across the bottom of a black alpaca 
apron. She nearly made her out a heathen, for 
asking for edging on a white apron ; and once, when 
Davy put a rose in her hair when she was going out 
to a little party, aunt told her she was wickedly 
vain, and made her take it out.” 

“The poor child!” cried Ann, “ why didn’t you 
get her something, Elizabeth, and not let her be dis- 
tressed that way ? ” 

“What did I have myself?” asked Elizabeth. 
“Aunt would not have let Davy have ‘frivolous 
things,’ it was against her principles. She was not 
too stingy — but too good.” 

“ Intending to be good, but much mistaken,” said 
Ann, quietly. She went upstairs to Davy’s room. 
Davy lay on her face on the bed, crying stormily. 
Ann sat on the bed beside her. “ Dear little lassie, 
Elizabeth says you won’t go to the party, because 
you have no pretty dress.” 

“ Of course I haven’t ; and of course I won’t go. 
Let me alone, can’t you, Ann Bradford ! Do you 
think I’ll go in that dull brown sateen, that’s been 
washed twice ? I won’t ! ” 

“ I wouldn’t if I were you. It’s not fit,” said 
Ann ; “ you must have a pretty embroidered white 
dress, and a wide pink sash. Have you any pretty 
slippers ? ” 

“ Of course not — nor dress, nor sash — go away, I 
say.” 

“ See here, Davy, I ought to have looked after 
your dress before now ; but you are always so neat, 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 


9 1 


and you are so pretty you look well in anything, and 
really it did not occur to me that you had not all 
that a girl needs — pretty as well as useful. You see 
the house looked so dull, and Elizabeth did so need 
things to brighten her up, that I gave my attention 
to them and forgot you. Do excuse me, Davy. 
Your .turn has now come, and we’ll have you ready 
for that party. The sash and slippers you can buy 
this afternoon ; we’ll have real nice ones. There’s 
not much time for a dress to be made, but I have 
in my trunk a very pretty white dress that I out- 
grew some years ago. It is the prettiest white dress 
I ever had. I can make it fit you easily ; I’ll work 
at it this afternoon and evening. I was looking 
over some of Aunt Fontaine’s things yesterday, 
and there was a real handsome gold neck-chain and 
a worked handkerchief ; you can have these, Davy, 
to keep, and wear them to-morrow.” 

“ Aunt Fontaine’ s gold chain and best handker- 
chief ! ” cried Davy, electrified, sitting straight up. 
“ Why, Ann Bradford, if you give me those to 
wear to a party it will be enough to make aunt 
come right out of her grave, to protest against fos- 
tering my vanity.” 

“ No, Davy,” said Ann, seriously, “ it will not. 
If aunt does know of it now she will be glad. She 
always desired to do right, and what was for your 
good ; now that she is where she has larger out- 
looks, and a wider way of thinking, she will know 
that God loves beauty for beauty’s sake, and we are 
right to love and have what is dainty and attractive, 


9 2 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


if we get it and use it in kindly, unselfish ways. 
Letty will be much happier in her party, if you are 
there, looking pretty, and feeling bright, and ready 
to lead her sports. Arthur could hardly go alone, 
and he wants to go. Elizabeth and I will much en- 
joy seeing you go off, all nicely dressed, and looking 
charming. You come and see me get out that be- 
loved white gown, and try it on. It is in that big 
trunk at the end of the hall. I shall give you that 
trunk when you go to college, Davy; it will save 
some money if I give you my trunk and my text- 
books — all that are now used, — and we can make 
over for you Aunt Fontaine’s changeable brown silk, 
and her black Henrietta cloth ; that will be two nice 
dresses to begin on. We can’t be extravagant for 
you, Davy, but we can have you becomingly and 
well dressed, for all that, if we use all we have to 
the very best advantage.” 

That afternoon, after two or three hours of dili- 
gent sewing on her machine, Ann took the famous 
white dress down to Elizabeth’s room, while she 
sewed lace in the neck and sleeves. Elizabeth 
watched her curiously, then said — 

“ Davy isn’t so fond of you, you need do all that, 
for her.” 

“ It is without any consideration whether she is 
fond or not,” said Ann. “ Fondness doesn’t grow 
in three or four weeks. It is- my duty to do my 
best for Davy, to make her happy ; not to let her 
nature be warped by idle repression.” 

“You are a funny kind of a Christian,” said 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 


93 


Elizabeth. “Aunt Fontaine would have thought 
such decorating of Davy positively sinful — a pam- 
pering of ‘high looks’ and a ‘proud heart.’ ” 

“ I have not so learned Christ,” said Ann. 
“ Christ went to a marriage feast, and helped to 
make it happier; he went to feasts and banquets; 
he says that some found fault with him for sharing 
the social pleasures of people. He did not blame 
Solomon for having been ‘ arrayed in all his glory ’ ; 
that young ruler that came to him was rich, very 
rich, and, no doubt, as was the fashion of the day, 
he was richly arrayed ; men in that age wore many 
ornaments and costly materials, yet ‘Jesus looking 
on him, loved him.’ He tested him as to his will- 
ingness to give up all for heaven, but he found 
nothing displeasing in his dress or manners. I 
should not wish Davy to be absorbed in dress 
and in her good looks, and there is no fear that she 
will, for above all things she loves books and study. 
I know Aunt Fontaine was a very good woman, yet 
there may have been something of the Christian life 
which her great troubles had shut her out from 
learning. Do you not know, Elizabeth, that God 
found fault with Israel, saying, ‘ Because thou serv- 
edst not thy God with joyfulness and with gladness 
of heart for the abundance of all things.’ I think 
the heavenly Father loves to see his children happy- 
faced, to hear them laugh and sing. A cheery, 
laughing, buoyant child is a great pleasure in a 
home ; why are not such acceptable children in the 
larger family of grace ? ” 


94 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


“ If that is the style of favorite children of God,” 
cried poor Elizabeth, “ then I must be a step-child, 
a cast-away! How can I be cheerful, laughing, 
happy, unable to walk, to lift myself, to do anything 
but lie in my bed or chair ! ” 

“ Dear Elizabeth, it is written, ‘ Now tribulation 
worketh patience ; and patience, experience ; and 
experience, hope.’ Being cheerful, hopeful, content- 
ed, cannot make you less happy, nor can it make you 
physically worse. On the contrary, buoyant spirits 
may really help you to a physical improvement. 
Every year sees new discoveries in medicine and 
surgery ; to-day are wrought by scientific skill, 
what would have been called miracles in other ages. 
I do not give up the idea of seeing you better, Eliza- 
beth, even well. It is better to trust so, than to 
despair. We have always the Great Physician 
to apply to, to bless the means and open new meth- 
ods. Then, too, if it is not God’s way that you 
should be cured, it is yet open to you to lead a 
noble, blessed, spiritual life ; a very helpful intellec- 
tual life. I remember Silvio Pellico, one of the 
world’s greatest and most patient sufferers, writes, 
‘ Blessed be the prison, since it has made me know 
the mercy and compassion of God.’ Also he says, 
‘ Sufferings add worth to a man.’ Some one else 
writes, 

“ ‘ The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 

Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.* 

Your trouble, dear Elizabeth, is a great one, but it 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 


95 

can be true of you, as of Israel, ‘ In all their afflic- 
tions he was afflicted, and the Angel of his presence 
saved them/ Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, 
to-day, and forever.” 

“ It is easy for you to talk,” cried Elizabeth, “ you 
have everything your own way ! What trouble did 
you ever have ? None ! ” 

Ann Bradford’s face contracted a little. There 
is no human heart beyond childish years, that has 
not been torn by the ploughshare of sorrow. She 
answered quietly, “ Elizabeth, the heart knoweth 
its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not 
with its joy. What you say reminds me more 
than ever that it was necessary for our great High 
Priest and Head to lead a life of suffering here 
below, open and manifest sorrow, or we children 
of earth might never realize that he could sympa- 
thize with us. I know that whatever I say to 
you about your trouble, must seem futile. ‘As 
vinegar upon nitre so is he that singeth songs to an 
heavy heart/ ” 

“Have you memorized all the Bible?” asked 
Elizabeth. 

“ No ! I only wish I had, by head and by heart, 
much more of it ; for just in proportion as we are 
thoroughly acquainted with the Scripture, are we 
happy, helpful, and spiritually strong. Spiritu- 
ally as well as physically, Elizabeth, we are as 
what we feed upon,” here Ann’s eyes fell upon 
some of the many trifling novels which Elizabeth 
read, and she was silent. 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


96 

“ Oh, I know,’’ said Elizabeth, “ you think I should 
not read those books.” 

“ Decidedly I do,” said Ann, “ they are weak and 
trashy, they are not even respectable English. They 
tend to make you morbid and miserable. Don’t 
think I want to abolish fiction ; many noble monu- 
mental works are fiction, so why not read them, and 
not mere stuff? Besides, you should read history, 
and natural science, and biography. Nothing can 
be more fascinating than Motley, Prescott, Macau- 
lay, Irving, Green, Guizot, in history. Try for three 
months, Elizabeth, the reading which I shall help 
you to select, and see if you are not happier, if 
your whole mental tone is not raised.” 

Elizabeth yawned and did not answer. Ann 
privately considered that she might be forced to 
administer Elizabeth’s reading as she had her 
druggist’s account. C’list’an simply bought what 
Elizabeth sent her for. 

Ann had finished the white dress when C’list’an 
came in. One of her chief joys was to go to funer- 
als, and she had just come from one. 

“ You got there in time ? ” queried Elizabeth. 

“ Oh, yes, indeed, an’ I wouldn’t have missed it for 
money. Poor Mis’ Nancy! Well, she did have a 
fine fun’ral, an’ the biggest coffin ever you see. It 
took eight men to pack her in it, an’ they jest 
scrooched under it. Poor Eddy Banks, he seems to 
have all his troubles come on him to onct ! In four 
weeks time, here he’s been burned out, an’ got mar- 
ried, an’ lost his Aunt Nancy.” 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 


97 


As Ann hung- away Davy’s new gown, she thought 
that while C’list’an was patient, faithful and skillful, 
as Elizabeth’s attendant, she was less than the most 
elevating society for her, and that evil must be 
counteracted by suitable reading, more outside 
society, and some literary interest ; to all of which 
Elizabeth was hostile. 

After breakfast next day, Ann said: “Now Davy 
is all ready for her party, I must see to Arthur’s 
dressing.” 

“ Dress up a boy ! ” cried Elizabeth ; “ who ever 
heard of such a thing ? If he has a decent suit and 
shoes, that’s enough.” 

“ Oh, a boy nicely got up,” said Ann, “ is a de- 
lightful spectacle. I believe in taking great pains 
with a boy. ” 

“ Make a little silly dandy of him ! ” 

“ No, but a clean little gentleman. Now, the suit 
Arthur had on Sunday is good, and his shoes do 
very well. His necktie was wretched, and his hand- 
kerchief did not please me at all. His hair is just 
sawed off. I mean to take him to the barber. A 
boy feels just as nice when he knows he looks well, 
as a girl does. 

“ C’list’an says you are fixing his room, that small 
room over the back hall, all up with white curtains 
and pictures, and fancy things. I didn’t know boys 
cared for nice rooms. I supposed they’d tear things 
up.” 

“ Boys are human beings, my dear girl ! They 
like nice and pretty things, and it helps to refine 
7 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


98 

them to have neat, refined surroundings. I think 
everything should be done to make home attractive 
to boys. Now, Arthur has lived in a kind of juvenile 
barracks, without any real home, and I am particu- 
larly anxious to cultivate home feelings in him as 
fast as I can. A man who has not home ties and 
affections is, to a large extent, a lost man.” 

When Davy and Arthur were ready for their party, 
Ann brought them to Elizabeth for inspection. 
Ann had curled Davy’s hair, and Davy’s eyes and 
cheeks shone in the delight of being, finally, prettily 
dressed ; the gold chain made a little shining, rip- 
pling rivulet about her plump throat, and the wide 
pink sash was just the shade for her clear, dark 
complexion. She, full of joy, pirouetted on the toes 
of her new patent leather slippers before poor Eliza- 
beth, and Elizabeth eyed her with jealous wrath. 

Arthur had a handsome blue tie, a fine kerchief 
with a blue border, and in his buttonhole a bunch 
of blue violets, which Ann had begged from Mrs. 
Percy, who had them the year round. 

“ Cutting your hair has made you better looking,” 
vouchsafed Elizabeth. “ I hope you know how to 
behave yourself at a party. I suppose you don’t. 
Davy will be so full of herself, that every one 
will see that she never had on anything nice be- 
fore.” 

Having thus planted thorns in both their bosoms, 
Elizabeth said she “ wished they’d start off, she was 
sick of looking at them.” They went, something 
crestfallen, to Ann’s sorrow, but recovered before 


THE SHADOWS ON THE WAY. 


99 


they had gone a block, for “ it was only Elizabeth ; 
no one minds her,” said Davy, indifferently. 

“ There comes Susan Stryker,” said Elizabeth, 
a few minutes after the children were gone. “ I 
always see her, she is some fun.” 

C’list’an introduced Susan, a girl of eighteen, 
with thin, straight lips, and little black, gimlet eyes. 

“ Glad to see you ! ” said Miss Susan, in a flighty 
way to Ann, “ most folks here are afraid of you, 
but I said I meant to come see what you were like. 
I met Davy and that boy flourishing off to Letty’s 
party. The idea of Letty having a party ! They’d 
better pay the grocery-bill than give parties ; those 
folks just live by getting in debt. Heard the news, 
Elizabeth ? Mrs. Lee’s Sara in the city, they say , 
has run off with a circus actor. Just as like as not 
he’s a married man ! I never had any notion of 
Sara Lee. They say Mr. Teal, the member of the 
legislature, was in town Monday, drunk, drunk as 
he could be. Nice man that to legislate.” 

“ You’re mistaken about that, I’m sure, Miss 
Stryker,” said Ann. “I happened to see Mr. Teal 
twice Monday, in the office of Mr. Grace, and at Mr. 
Gillespie’s, and he certainly was sober, and seemed 
an intelligent gentleman.” 

“Oh, well,” said Miss Susan, “Tom Coan told 
me, and Tom never thinks of speaking the truth ! ” 

Susan Stryker stayed an hour, pouring out venom. 
In vain Ann tried to turn the conversation to safe 
and pleasant channels, or to cut the visit short. 
Susan reminded her of the “vain fellow,” in the 


IOO 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. ' 


Ninth Satire of Horace, and poor Ann felt herself 
like the dapper little Roman poet, who could not 
rid himself of his unwelcome company. When, 
finally, Ann succeeded in freezing Susan out, Eliza- 
beth remarked, “ Susan is always some fun ; she’s 
full of talk.” 

“Full of slander and falsehood, I’m afraid,” said 
Ann. “ She reminded me of Tennyson’s Vivien : 

“ ‘ Defaming and defacing, till she left 
Not even Launcelot brave, nor Galahad clean.’ ” 

Something must be done for Elizabeth, else she 
would be morally as unfortunate as she was physi- 
cally. Ann went across the street to call upon Mrs. 
Gates and Mrs. Percy. 

“ I want to talk to you about some plans I have 
been making,” she said. “ I had thought it better 
to wait, and be more acquainted with the people 
here, before I tried to bring in new ways. I don’t 
want to put myself forward as a leader, especially 
now, while I am a stranger. I find I cannot put 
these things off. Elizabeth needs some help at 
once, if her mind is not to be as disabled as her 
body. Elizabeth is injuring herself mentally and 
morally by the books she reads, and the themes she 
dwells upon. On Monday Arthur will begin school 
and Davy will get at her studies. I have urged 
Elizabeth to study, but she is out of the habit of 
anything of the kind, and she feels restive about 
my controlling her in any way. I want to draw her 
pleasantly into some useful ways of spending her 
time, and I want you to help me.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


“ THIS IS MY FRIEND, O DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEM ! ” 

“ Enough for me in dreams to see 
And touch thy garment’s hem, 

Thy feet have trod so near to God 
I may not follow them.” 

When Ann Bradford said, “ I want you to help me 
to help Elizabeth,” Mrs. Gates and Mrs. Percy fell 
into meditation. Mrs. Gates wondered whether she 
was to be asked to teach Elizabeth knitting and em- 
broidery ; and Mrs. Percy whether she was to be 
requested to go and remonstrate with Elizabeth. 
Ann relieved their minds by explaining her plans. 
“ I have been thinking of forming some clubs, 
reading clubs, and having them meet at my house, 
in Elizabeth’s room, and then Elizabeth must have 
the benefit of hearing what is said and read, and 
she would become interested in spite of herself. 
Mere pride would lead her to read up, and be able 
to take some part in the work. I want to start with 
two clubs, just gatherings for reading, on some set 
subject. No fees, no officers, no rules, except to 
have a regular time of meeting, begin promptly on 
the hour, and give full attention to the work while 


102 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


it goes on. I want to get up a Missionary Reading 
Club, to meet for two hours, once in two weeks, and 
read some of the lovely books that are now written 
about the countries where missionary work is done, 
and the people who are doing it. Once we begin, I 
am sure we should all be full of enthusiasm about 
the books read, and our Missionary Society would 
get the benefit of the new interest. I remember I 
sat up late of nights to read ‘ Cyrus Coan’s Adven- 
tures in Patagonia,’ and ‘ An English Governess 
at the Court of Siam.’ The story of the Judsons 
in Burmah ‘ held my eyes waking so that I could 
not sleep,’ and there are dozens more of books just 
as good. Now will you two belong to such a club ? 
If I can tell Mrs. Gillespie that you will, I am sure 
she will be encouraged to go out and gather other 
members.” 

“ Well, indeed we will belong ! ” said Mrs. Percy, 
heartily. 

“ How shall we get our books ? ” asked Mrs. 
Gates. 

“ I have a friend in a large library; she will send 
me lists of the best books on our subject, and some 
of them we can get, at very low rates, at the large 
second-hand stores. The others we can buy, those 
purchasing who are willing to do so. I will provide 
a book to start with, and I know Mrs. Gillespie will 
do the same. Probably Mr. Gillespie has a book 
or two in his library that will suit us. Whatever 
we do, we will not select a dull book ; that would 
kill our club at the start.” 


THIS IS MY FRIEND: 


“ You’re a fine planner, just like Dorothy,” said 
Mrs. Gates. 

“ I believe this will help Elizabeth,” said Mrs. 
Percy. 

“ I want to come yet nearer Elizabeth’s needs,” 
said Ann, “ I want to start a study-reading club of 
girls. I want five girls of about sixteen, and one 
girl of fourteen, on Davy’s account. I will provide 
a course of historical reading, and take charge of 
the club, and help it on. Their only expense will 
be a notebook for each, except as they wish to buy 
books on the subject, and then I will help them to 
get those as cheaply as I can. I do not know the 
girls that should come into this class. I wish them 
to meet for two hours one afternoon in a week in 
Elizabeth’s room, and I must have nice girls, who 
have a desire to study, willingness to work, and time 
to come. You, Mrs. Percy, know all the people in 
Dillburg ; you know the girls and their families. 
Perhaps the principal of the school here could sug- 
gest some girls to you. As I am an entire stranger, 
I want you to be so good and helpful as to go and 
see these girls for me, explain the plan and make 
up the number. If you will do that I know we 
shall succeed.” 

“ Certainly, I will do it for you, Miss Ann, for 
Elizabeth, and for the sake of the girls themselves. 
It will be a great help to them. Dorothy always 
said this town needed waking up, and may be you’ll 
wake it up. ” 

“ Please don’t mention what I said about Eliza* 


104 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


beth’s need of study, and a new direction for her 
thinking,” said Ann. “ Of course I spoke to you 
in confidence. I would not, for anything, have re- 
marks made that would come round to Elizabeth, 
and anger the poor child. She has enough to bear.” 

Ann went home feeling more cheerful ; surely by 
degrees she could bring about the changes that were 
so much needed. On the previous Sunday she had 
brought together four girls, with Davy, Elizabeth 
and Arthur, for the study of Pilgrim’s Progress. 
She had succeeded in finding in the village copies 
enough of the wonderful dream for them all to use, 
and all had seemed greatly pleased. True to the 
usual experience, she had found it a work of time 
for these youth to find Scripture references. Their 
Bibles did not open readily at desired places. Some 
of them, whatever book was called for, began regu- 
larly at Genesis, and went over each title until the 
one needed happily rewarded search. Revelation 
was sought for in the Old Testament, and the Book 
of Kings was evidently supposed to be a shining 
ornament of the New. But Ann had been a Sunday- 
school teacher, and had had similar experiences.. 
She had patience to help and to wait, and though 
the affair moved slowly, she told herself the speed 
would improve, and grimly assured herself that 
these young folks would know more about the Bible 
before she was done with them. 

Ann and Elizabeth were alone at the tea-table. 
Elizabeth’s appetite was fickle ; she leaned back in 
her chair and talked while Ann ate. 


THIS IS MY FRIEND.” 


IO S 

“ You didn’t like Sue Stryker, Cousin Ann, but 
what harm is there in talking as she does? She 
never lacks something to say. She can tell every- 
thing that has happened in this town since long be- 
fore she was born, for she never forgets a thing that 
she hears. She has stories about everybody.” 

“The harm would depend upon what kind of 
stories they are. Do you remember many pleasant 
stories among them all : stories that make you think 
better of individuals, and of human nature at 
large ? ” 

Elizabeth was silent. Ann continued, presently : 
“ Did you ever find that the stories were not true ? 
For instance, is it not very possible that the story 
of some one running away with a circus actor may 
be quite untrue ? ” 

Elizabeth laughed. “ More than half Sue’s stories 
turn out to be false !” 

“ It seems very cruel to fabricate unkind stories 
about people, or to spread what we know may be 
fabrications. Even when the unpleasant reports are 
true, why spread them ? A very ancient book, 
called The Shepherd of Hermas, has this thought — 
‘ For the remembrance of evils worketh death : but 
the forgetting of them life eternal.’ 

“ When people have done the wrong things, they 
may also have repented. God says that when sins 
are repented of they are for Christ’s sake forgiven, 
and also that being forgiven ‘they are cast behind 
his back,’ ‘ no more remembered,’ ‘ blotted out,’ and 
‘ shall not be so much as mentioned ’ to the doer 


1 06 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

for evermore. Now if this is God’s way with sin- 
ners, why should not we humans follow in that 
gracious way ? ” 

“ O Cousin Ann ! ” cried Elizabeth, “ you expect 
too much of one. You ought to consider that I have 
so much suffering and trouble, that much must not 
be asked of me 1 ” 

“ Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ be royal ; reign over 
suffering, do not let it tyrannize over you.” 

Undoubtedly such words fell into Elizabeth’s 
mind to bear fruit in after days ; they seemed, how- 
ever to fall only to be carried off by birds of the air, 
or to die, and Ann was too apt to be discouraged, 
and to forget that unless a seed die it cannot spring 
up and bear fruit. Elizabeth was very vexing that 
evening, and when Davy -and Arthur^ came home 
late, she tried to poison all their joy until they 
-quarreled with her, and went angry to bed. 

“ Elizabeth, dear,” said Ann, “ you should pro- 
mote and not spoil happiness.” 

“ What do you pet those disagreeable creatures 
so for? Do you suppose they’ll ever thank you for 
it ? What will you ever be to them any way ? Just 
somebody who was forced to look after them for a 
few years ! They’ll hate you for trying to govern 
them, and then finally forget you.” 

Ann felt downhearted enough, as she sat by her 
window, after she went upstairs. She loved to look 
out into the night and think ; but to-night her 
thoughts were sad. Perhaps, as Carlyle said, “ The 
sacred air-castles of her hope were doomed to shrink 


THIS IS MY FRIEND 


into the mean clay hamlets of reality.” But no, 
nothing is mean, nothing is finally disappointing 
which is built upon the love and promise of God. 

She heard words. There was a great apple-tree 
near the window, and a bench under it. She heard 
C’list’an’s voice and that of a man. C’list’an was 
at last, for the day, done with Elizabeth, and now 
had come out to her renegade brother. Not a very 
exhilarating change for C’list’an. C’list’an spoke — 

“ I smell liquor on your breath, Bill.” 

“ G’list’an, you’re always smelling liquor. You’ve 
got water on the brain.” 

“ I wish you had. It’s your good I’m looking 
out for.” 

“ I’m all right. See this new suit you bought me ! 
How do I look, honey ? Fine ? ” 

“ Fine enough, if you don’t fall into the gutter 
before the week’s over.” 

“ Well, I got through last Sunday. I think you 
might trust me a bit.” 

“ Trust you ! No, my dear boy. I don’t trust you 
for an hour. You keep me in perpetual excite- 
ment. When you’re sober, I wonder when you’ll 
get drunk ; when you’re drunk, when you’ll get 
sober.” 

“ I reckon you’ll get tired of me,” whimpered the 
man, “ and go and marry Mr. Black.” 

“ You need not fear,” said C’list’an. “ I can’t 
marry him nor anybody so long as I’ve got you to 
look out for. Single, I earn my own money, and lay 
most of it out on you ; no brother-in-law would 


108 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

have patience with you. I’ve done for you since 
you were three years old, and I reckon I will till you 
die. May the Lord send I live as long as you do, or 
you’ll go to the county-house ; you’ve never let me 
lay up a penny.” 

C’list’an uttered facts in a calm, uncomplaining 
tone. As Ann closed the window and turned away, 
she thought how heavy a burden C’list’an was daily 
bearing, cheerfully and kindly, putting all her wages 
into that “ bag with holes ” a drunkard’s spending, 
working hard and not laying up anything for age or 
illness. Poor C’list’an ! Miss Bradford felt a new 
sympathy for this other sharer of the lot below, 
which “for no whole day escaped care.” She 
would try to help C’list’an to a deeper knowledge of 
the fellowship of Christ which sheds such comfort- 
able light over the darkest paths of earth. When 
those two walked toward Emmaus, bowed and sorry 
under the shadows of death, when One came and 
walked with them, the night and the way and the 
sorrow were beguiled ; there was shining and com- 
fort all around ; they hardly realized its sweetness, 
they knew nothing of whence it came, until “ they 
knew him in the breaking of the bread.” 

Within a few days Mrs. Gillespie and Mrs. Percy 
had succeeded in collecting members for the two 
clubs which Ann Bradford proposed to form. The 
time of meeting was set, and it only remained to 
reckon with Elizabeth. If Elizabeth positively re- 
fused to permit the clubs to meet in her room, or to 
have anything to do with them, then they must 


“ THIS IS MY FRIEND: 


109 

meet in the parlor, which Ann had transformed into 
a very cheery little library ; and for a long time at 
least, Elizabeth would receive no benefit. Ann 
meditated on the most tactful way of proposing the 
affair. An express parcel came to her aid. It was 
sent by a college classmate, as a memento for Ann’s 
birthday, but Ann took it, as she loved to take all 
things, as a gift direct from the tenderly caring 
Lord. The present was a very beautiful, soft, dainty 
afghan. Ann opened the parcel in Elizabeth’s 
room ; she uniformly tried to bring all the interest 
which she could into that room. Elizabeth allowed 
herself to admire the afghan greatly. Ann threw it 
over Elizabeth’s lap. 

“ It just suits your complexion,” she said, “I will 
bring it in for you, to throw across your lap and 
feet, every time our clubs meet.” Then she re-ar- 
ranged the draping a little, so that Elizabeth’s two 
slender feet showed. “ Elizabeth, as you so seldom 
wear out shoes, I am sure you can afford the very 
prettiest in the market ! Suppose I write to a firm 
that deals in fine fancy shoes, and get you pink, 
blue and white kid slippers, with rosettes, to wear 
to match your new wrappers ? ” 

This delighted Elizabeth. She had been secretly 
envying Davy’s new patent leather ties ; but it was 
not one of Elizabeth’s ways to state what she 
wanted, she preferred to go without, and be aggrieved 
by her deprivations. However, she heartily ac- 
corded with the slipper plan, and Ann said she 
would write by the afternoon mail. 


I IO 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


% ' 

Then — “ What clubs ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ Oh, two delightful clubs that I have been get- 
ting up ; I know you will enjoy them so much and 
Ann launched into eager description of the delights 
of reading clubs. 

Elizabeth could not avoid being pleased with the 
idea, but it was so hard for her to agree cheerfully 
to any one’s plans. 

“ Suppose I should be sick, folks couldn’t be in 
here,” she said. 

“ Oh, then, of course we should meet in the library. 
But I know you will not be sick, Elizabeth. You 
look better every day, now that you have more 
out-of-doors air, more pretty things, more life about 
you. Who knows how well you will be some time ! 
When those slippers come, let us match them 
exactly in silk or crgpe ties. I do like matched 
things.” 

“ You are so different from Aunt Fontaine ! She 
never thought of my having fancy things or bright 
colors. She thought such indulgences almost 
wicked.” 

“ Perhaps she had no taste for them, and did not 
think about them at all. I think it right, very right 
for you to have all that you can to make you look 
and feel brighter. I think invalids should have all 
the cheerfulness, and encouragement, all the at- 
tractive things they can get, to take their minds 
from themselves. These things help them to bear 
their various privations. God has seen fit to send 
on you a trouble which deprives you of many means 


THIS IS MY FRIEND.' 


hi 


of enjoyment. I believe he is pleased, glad, to see 
you having all the pleasures and comforts that you 
can. God might have made all flowers dust color, 
or made no flowers at all ; he gave us flowers and 
butterflies, and lovely painted birds, for beauty’s 
sake, to enrich our lives. I believe he is pleased 
that you can have pretty slippers, wrappers and 
ties.” 

“ Ann, you speak just as if Christ was a real per- 
son, near us, somewhere about here — just as he was 
once, with John, Mary, Martha, the others, here on 
earth, an every-day friend.” 

“So I believe he is,” said Ann. “Don’t he say, 
* Lo, I am with you alway, even to the end of the 
world ’ ? I should be very lonesome if I did not 
believe that.” 

“Lonesome ! Ann, what a strange thing for you 
to say.” 

“ Why is it strange ? Christ offers to be, not ‘ a 
stranger and a wayfaring man in the midst of the 
land to tarry but a night,’ as a guest at a hotel, and 
go his way. He says rather he will abide with us, 
always hearing, sympathizing, ready to seek help, 
save. * This is my companion, and this is my 
friend, O daughters of Jerusalem ! ’ ” 

“ Now,” said C’list’an, laying down her sewing, 
“ I don’t know how a body can get right up to that 
mark, but it sounds right, and I know it is right. 
Most people’s religion don’t seem of much practical 
use to ’em ; not much more use than a pin ’thout a 
head ! ” 


1 1 2 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ Don’t say most people, C’list’an, in saying that 
you slander the church of God. There are more, 
more, more Christians living in this fellowship 
than you think. Perhaps, C’list’an, you think it is 
unusual, merely because you have not reached to 
such living yourself,” said Ann. 

“ Me live that way ! ” cried C’list’an, picking up 
the white school apron which she was trimming 
with edging for Davy. “ Why ! I’d be clean scared 
of myself, if I felt like that.” 

“ I tell you, Cousin Ann,” said Elizabeth, “ it is 
all well enough for you to talk like that, and feel 
like that, for you have had no troubles at all. Every 
thing goes just right for you.” 

“ Do you think I’m one of the people exhausted 
by too much money, and too little trouble?” said 
Ann, smiling. 

“ I shouldn’t say exhausted, in regards to you,” 
said C’list’an, glancing at Ann’s fine, strong, erect 
figure. 

“Dr. Helen Train tells me most of her nervous 
patients are of that over-pampered description,” said 
Ann. 

“ Anyway, Ann, you never have a bit of trouble,” 
urged Elizabeth. 

“ An old writer,” said Ann, “has this sentence — 
‘If God putteth no grievous cross upon you, let 
your brother’s cross be your cross, which is a cer- 
tain token of true brotherly love.’ I think that is 
in the first Epistle of St. Clement of Rome.” 

“ Then you can take your share in mine,” said 


“ THIS IS MY FRIENDS 1 13 

Elizabeth ; “ perhaps that makes you rather patient 
with me.” 

“Rather!” cried C’list’an, “why she’s just made 
of patience with you two Tracys, an’ that Arthur. 
I think that mebby Miss Bradford’s the kind that 
the Lord didn’t need to drive into being good. 
Some folks on the road to heaven is as balky as 
half-broke mules, or as all-abroad as a passel of 
pigs. ’Minds me of an uncle I lived with when I 
was a little girl. That man wouldn’t never look up. 
You couldn’t make him see a sky above him nor a 
God behind the sky. Land sakes, he was just bent 
over, like the rakin’ man in that Progress book on 
your table. Just naturally he wouldn’t look up, 
that man wouldn’t, till God just took him and laid 
him flat on his back, then, reasonably he couldn’t 
look no other way ! ” 

C’list’an shook out the three white aprons, re- 
marked absently, “ Them’s pretty,” and carried 
them up to Davy’s room. Elizabeth looked at Ann, 
they both smiled. 

“ C’list’an is so funny,” said’ Elizabeth. “ Some- 
times I think she is a Christian, and then again I 
think she isn’t.” 

“ As Browning says of one of his characters,” said 
Ann. “ * He at least believed in soul, and was 
very sure of God.’ ” 

“ Is that enough ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ Indeed no ; but it is a good foundation to build 
upon.” 

Ann Bradford, in her anxieties about Elizabeth’s 

8 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


114 

mental development, was unaware that she herself 
was daily doing something to educate this girl, 
leading her into higher thinking. 

School had opened for Arthur ; Davy had set 
herself sedulously to work with the promise of 
going the next year to the city, and having a tutor 
to complete her preparation for the university. 
Davy was a passionate lover of books, full of am- 
bition. There had been nothing to hinder her de- 
voting her time to Elizabeth’s light literature, and 
so frittering away her mind. Instead, she had as- 
pired to what was higher, and read standard litera- 
ture. She was willing to be guided by Ann in 
affairs literary, for she greatly respected Ann’s col- 
lege education. Was not such an education, at 
present, almost the acme of her own hopes ? 

“ Should I never read novels ? ” she asked Ann. 

“ If you wish to be thoroughly well educated you 
should read but few novels before you are eighteen. 
There are some great monumental w r orks of fiction 
which you should read before that time. Don’t be 
afraid of reading standard literature, which is sup- 
posed to be out of fashion. Your speech and your 
writing will be more elegant, your thinking cleaner 
and clearer, if you do not neglect Addison and 
Irving. Their works are for reading not once, but 
several times.” 

There was nothing to complain of in Davy’s 
method of study and reading, unless that she de- 
voted herself to these too exclusively. Ann be- 
lieved in building up a strong body for a robust 


THIS IS MY FRIEND: 


mind to inhabit, and Davy wanted to sit up too late, 
and take too little exercise. 

When October came, every Saturday was spent in 
the woods, nutting or bringing home young trees 
and plants. A fern bed was made in a moist, shady 
corner, a bed of arum, crane’s bill, and other wood- 
plants was made at the north end of the verandah ; 
vines were planted, trees and flowering shrubs set 
out. Davy really enjoyed some of this work, and 
Ann made it more agreeable, by giving her a fund 
of botanical information that Davy saw would come 
in helpfully in future studies in botany. Ann Brad- 
ford had a good memory, and she had been a dili- 
gent, painstaking, if not a brilliant, student. She 
was exactly the teacher Davy needed. 

Excursions to the woods were a new feature of 
life in this household. 

“ Aunt Fontaine never left me for a whole day ! ” 
cried Elizabeth, who greatly resented these diver* 
sions. “ She thought it looked mean and unkind 
to make the difference between me and other people 
plainer and plainer, by taking Davy off to picnics 
and rides, and leaving me alone.” 

“ You are not alone, Elizabeth ; there are three 
servants left at the house, so that you can want for 
nothing. If Davy and Arthur and I remained at 
home, because you cannot go, it would be no physi- 
cal betterment to you, and a direct disadvantage to 
us. We need the exercise and change, and are 
every way better for having it. Of course, if you 
were with us we should enjoy it more, but because 


1 1 6 TO WARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

you cannot go is no good reason for our remaining 
at home,” said Ann, firmly. 

“ You are so selfish, Ann Bradford ! 1 never saw 

anything like it.” 

“ Why, Elizabeth, I do all that I can for you, and 
for every one.” 

“Oh, do, do! You run doing into the ground, 
but you’re selfish, you think of yourself, you want to 
be liked and appreciated. There’s Miss Nevins ; I’d 
like her to live in the house with me. She never 
knows that she is doing things for people ; she don’t 
know that she exists. I like that kind of a person. 
Aunt Fontaine never thought of herself at all. She 
didn’t know there was such a person as herself. 
That’s what I like.” 

Ann’s eyes grew wide with wonder. 

“ Well,” she said, emphatically, “ I have heard of 
people who were selfish, wanted to absorb time and 
attention ; but I never before saw one who was so 
superlatively selfish as to demand the absolute self- 
obliteration of others as the price of living with 
her.” 

“ I never was so talked to in my life ! ” cried 
Elizabeth. 

“ It is a pity you had not been ; it might have 
done you good.” 

On the one side there were the exactions of Eliza- 
beth to contend with, and her intense jealousy of 
Davy and Arthur. On the other side was Davy, for 
Davy, on her part, was not less trying, She drew a 
line where she would cease to obey Ann, and that 


“ THIS IS MY FRIEND.' 


line was soon reached. Ann thought it right and 
reasonable that Davy should keep her own room in 
order. Maggie did the regular biennial houseclean- 
ing and weekly polished the windows, but the daily 
care of the room and its weekly sweeping Ann 
charged to Davy. Davy seemed to consider it a 
mark of genius to have about her disorder. Her 
bureau drawers were in dire confusion ; the closet 
door hung open ; towels lay on the floor, shoes and 
garments where they happened to drop. 

“ What did Aunt Fontaine do about it ? ” Ann 
asked Maggie. 

“ Oh, she told Davy to do it, and then did it her- 
self. ,, 

Going one day into Davy’s room, when Davy was 
at Mrs. Gillespie’s reciting her algebra, Ann stood 
dismayed at the unmade bed, the carelessly-left 
wash bowl, the general dust and disorder. She 
crayoned, “ O Davy,” on a large card, and fastened 
it on the looking-glass. For several days thereafter 
Davy locked her room door when she went out. 

“ Why don’t you take away her key ? ” said Eliza- 
beth, highly delighted at the strife. 

“ I would not do such a thing,” said Ann, “persons 
have a right to keys to their room doors, and to be 
able to fasten themselves in and the public out, if 
they choose. Why should I demean myself to tyr- 
anny, because Davy is a little rebel ?” 

Another point with Davy was, that she would not 
mend any of her clothing ; stockings were left un- 
darned, buttons off, gloves ragged. Davy thought 


1 18 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

it became a literary person to be thus neglectful. 
Ann advised her that here she was immensely mis- 
taken and behind the day, that both as a lady and 
a scholar, it behooved her to be in perfect order, with 
all her belongings scrupulously nice. However, in 
regard to the mending, as C’list’anhad time and did 
it well, and Davy really was too sedentary in her 
habits, Ann did not greatly object to turning the 
needle-work over to the maid. But the room clean- 
ing was another pair of gloves, it was excellent ex- 
ercise. How often in these little contentions must 
Ann lift up the cry, 

" Calm me, my God, and keep me calm. 

Let thine outstretched wing 
Be like the shade of Elim’s palm, 

Beside her desert spring.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


“they go from strength to strength.” 


“ And strong in him whose cause is ours, 

We grasp the weapons he has given: 

The light, the truth, the love, of heaven.” 

. “ How do you get on with that boy ? ” asked Mrs. 

Percy of Ann. “ I know I never could handle a boy. 
Girls are different.” 

“ I don’t know but Arthur is quite as easy to deal 
with as Davy or Elizabeth,” said Ann. 

“ That may be, those Tracy girls are so spoiled.” 
“ Oh, they do very well, on the whole ; much bet- 
ter than ever I expected,” said Ann, who was Napo- 
leonic in her ideas as to the household linen. “ But 
Arthur is really a very good boy, a pleasant little 
man, and easily managed.” 

“ If you got into trouble with him, I suppose you 
could get Mr. Grace or Mr. Gillespie to help look 
after him.” 

“ If I get where I have to ask outside help, to 
manage my household,” said Ann, “ I’ll consider 
myself a dead failure, and give up the household.” 
“ But you might need advice.” 

119 


120 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ So I might. Still, in domestic affairs, it is better 
to work out one’s own salvation. Every boy is an 
individual, and needs methods suited to his individ- 
uality. So far as I can see, it is best to study the 
boy, and then look up the methods the case indi- 
cates. Fortunately, Arthur’s is not a difficult case 
to diagnose or remedy. The fact is, Mrs. Percy, I 
think I naturally take to little boys. I like them 
and sympathize with them. Arthur is so glad to 
be individually liked and mothered and petted for 
the first time in his life, that he really is very good 
indeed.” 

Arthur, on his part, was getting on very well for 
the present, but, as frequently happens with older 
people, he was made miserable by fears for the fu- 
ture. His anxiety about what might be would have 
kept him awake of nights, had he not always been 
so exceedingly sleepy when he went to bed ! His 
disturbance reached such a height that he took his 
best comrades into his confidence. “Oh, if she 
should, and if she did, what ever would he do ! ” 

“ Pooh,” cried the comrades, “ do you have to 
mind her; she ain’t a relation ! Is she your boss ? 
What would she do if you didn’t mind ? ” 

Arthur admitted that maybe she would not do 
anything. 

“ Only somehow it seems like I’d have to mind 
her, more’n I did the Prex, where I went to school. 
He’d keep you in holidays or send you to bed ’thout 
supper, or even whack you, but somehow it’s harder 
’bout not minding Cousin Ann, ’cause she just looks 


FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH: 


121 


kind of quiet, like she never ’spected you’d think of 
not mindin’ her. Oh, dear me ! Wish’t I was grown 
up!” 

Late October gave a brief revival of summer 
warmth. One moonlit evening was so balmy that 
Ann sat swinging in a hammock stretched on the 
new verandah. Arthur gathered up all his courage 
to know his fate at one fell swoop. He went and 
sat down beside her. Ann gave his close-cut hair 
a friendly rub. “How do you come on, Arthur, 
these diys ? ” 

“ Oh-a-a, pretty well. But, its cornin’ winter 
pretty soon.” 

“ So it is. May be cold enough in a month,” re- 
plied Ann. 

“ Freezing. Boys say it freezes hard ice here ; 
an’ the pond slick as glass.” 

“ I expect so.” 

“ I say, Cousin Ann, do you believe in skating ? ” 
desperately. 

“ Skating ! Certainly I do. I’m fond of skating ; 
I thought it would be good for my health, and I 
learned. I’ve got lovely club skates. I can cut a 
star in the ice. Can you skate? Of course you 
can.” 

“ No, I can’t. Prex wouldn’t let us, ’fraid we ’d 
break through, or fall on our heads, or hurt our 
backs.” 

“ What nonsense. I’m going to teach you to 
skate. Before the winter’s over, I’ll have you the 
best skater of your age in Dillburg.” 


122 


TO IV A RD THE GLORY GATE. 


What rapture ! Arthur was breathless with joy. 
“ But I’ve no skates.” 

“ We’ll buy some : clubs. We must stretch in- 
come to cover skates ; they’re necessary articles.” 

“ When'll you buy ’em ? ’* 

‘‘Just as soon as some good ones are brought 
here.” 

“ Great Scott ! ain’t you a tip-topper ! I say, I 
wish I could do something for you, Cousin Ann.” 

“So you can, there was something I meant to 
talk to you about. I don’t see why boys should be 
more helpless than girls. There is no reason that 
they should depend on women and girls for things 
that they might learn to do themselves. I think 
every boy should learn to keep his room neat, make 
his bed, and sew on his buttons. I want you to 
learn all those things. I want you to begin at once. 
I see you are careful to hang up your clothes, and 
your nightshirt ; and keep your brushes clean.” 

“ They made us do that at school,, or we ’d get 
black marks. But, Cousin Ann — if — I make bed 
and sew buttons — an’ keep my room tidy, the fel- 
lows will all call me ‘ Miss Nancy,’ an’ ‘ molly- 
coddle,’ an’ ‘ apron-string,’ an’ all that.” 

“ Indeed they won’t ; if they see that you are a 
manly boy ; if you can skate, swim, ride horseback, 
hit the bull’s-eye in the middle when you fire at a 
mark ; if you can ‘ skin the cat ’ and turn summer- 
saults on a trapeze-bar, you can sew and make beds 
all you like, and no one will peep against it.” 

As this vista of manly glories opened before him, 


“ FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH 1 


Arthur’s eyes glowed at the beauteous vision, 
fairly caught his breath. “ O Cousin Ann, can I do 
all those things ! I am practising on the trapeze 
every day at Billy Baker’s, but I didn’t let you 
know, ’cause I thought you wouldn’t like it.” 

“ Come, come, that’s not the way to do — always 
be fair and above board, and you’ll find me reason- 
able. Can you ride a horse ? ” 

“ Well, once or twice, when I went to visit Hal 
Kite for a few days, there was an old horse in his 
pasture ; we rode bareback.” 

“ I’d like you to ride well. This morning when I 
was looking over the things in the attic, to see what 
I had to make good use of, I found in a trunk a 
nice saddle. It must have belonged to Aunt Fon- 
taine’s husband or brother. If you’ll bring it down 
to-morrow morning you can begin to ride every day. 
The first few days, until you get acquainted with 
Dandy and the saddle, you had better keep inside 
the gates, and have Mr. Black help you a little. 
After that you can ride in the street. You must 
learn all you can about riding this year, for when 
Davy goes off next year, I think I must sell Dandy 
and the surrey. My expenses will be so heavy that 
I cannot afford luxuries. You and I must make 
our excursions on foot, and it won’t hurt us.” 

“ And the swimming and shooting ? ” demanded 
Arthur. 

“ I shall ask Mr. Black to teach you to swim next 
summer, and before you go away to school, I’ll have 
you taught to handle a rifle.” 


123 

He 


124 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

“Well, I just tell you I will learn to make my 
bed and do up my room. I’ll begin to-morrow, and 
I’ll do it well, too ; so I will.” 

“I’ll show you how, and the first button that 
comes off, I’ll show you how to put it on.” 

“ Oh, I know. I’ve watched Miss Pringle sew ’em 
on times an’ times, when my clothes was on me. I 
know how, you’ll see. I wish there was something 
else I could do for you, Cousin Ann, I truly do.” 

“ There is,” said Ann, promptly. “ Davy is giving 
me a deal of trouble, keeping her room disorderly, 
and going about with buttons off her shoes, and 
glove fingers ragged. I am so orderly that disorder 
half kills me, it makes me nearly sick. I wish you’d 
keep your room and buttons so nice that you would 
be an example to Davy, and I think when you are 
doing these things for yourself, you might shame 
her into doing better.” 

What small amount of chivalry inheres in the 
soul of a twelve-year-old boy awaked by these confi- 
dences. Davy was not behaving, and Ann was 
distressed thereby. 

“ You bet, I ’ll just nag that Davy till she does 
better,” said Arthur. 

“ Davy is a great comfort to me about her studies, 
she works splendidly,” said Ann ; “ but in some 
other things she is a cross.” 

“ I wish I could be a great comfort to you in my 
studies,” said Arthur ; “ I b’lieve I’ll study harder.” 

“ I went to see your teacher yesterday, about 
how you get on, and he said, ‘ Pretty well in most 


“ FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH ” 125 

things/ but that there was much to be desired in 
your ways with your arithmetic.” 

“ I know,” said Arthur, “ but there ’s so little 
sense in arithmetic.” 

“ Phew ! You’ll find it’s full of good sense, if 
you once understand it. Nothing more so. Arith- 
metic is like a boy in that. You see arithmetic is 
one of the indispensable affairs. If you go through 
college, you will have to take many mathematical 
studies, at the base of which lies arithmetic ; if you 
don’t go to college, and choose a business life, then 
a thorough knowledge of arithmetic and bookkeep- 
ing are equally indispensable. So long as you 
surely must know arithmetic, you might as well 
tackle it heartily to begin with. There is no sense 
in fighting the inevitable. While you work at it, 
work honestly. There are two good texts for stu- 
dents. ‘ Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do; do 
it with thy might,’ and ‘Not slothful in business, 
fervent in spirit, serving the Lord.’ I used to 
brace myself up with those texts over studies that 
I did not like.” 

“ Well,” said Arthur, “ teacher told me to bring 
my arithmetic home to-night and study, and I 
meant to skip the study, but I s’pose I’d better go 
do it.” 

“ Indeed you had. Study arithmetic every even- 
ing at home. Davy is studying in the back parlor. 
Go there and get to work, and ask Davy to help 
you over the hard places. She can. I believe in 
the tutor system of study ; the more you are helped 


126 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

over hard places, the more time you have for work, 
and the pleasanter the work is. All that is required 
is that you understand the help, and learn the prin- 
ciples, and try to apply them for yourself.” 

Arthur went off, and Ann lay back in the ham- 
mock smiling to herself. She had known all about 
the neglected arithmetic, the private gymnastics at 
Billy Baker’s, the yearnings after skating ; all she 
wanted of the boy was to be honest and open, con- 
science-guided in his doings. 

Ann’s heart was full of cares and plans, her days 
were full of occupation. All the improvements 
that she could afford to make on her new home were 
finished; the house was changed and brightened, and 
the grounds gave promise of spring loveliness. 
Maggie had finished house-cleaning, the former 
shut-up, untasteful parlor, was a bright cheery li- 
brary, the room that had been Aunt Fontaine’s was 
a study-room of evenings, and had a folding-bed 
and screen-concealed washstand so that it could be 
used as a bedroom for transients. An air of cheer- 
fulness, brightness, enterprise pervaded the house. 
Aunt Fontaine’s old-time notions of a richly loaded 
table, dull, shut-up rooms, no amusements, unbeau- 
tiful raiment were passing out of sight. 

Ann Bradford applied not only her economic 
instincts but her physiological and chemical knowl- 
edge to her table. Plenty of good plain food, well 
cooked, appetizing, she demanded, but little pam- 
pering of the palate on high seasoning and sweet- 
meats. 


“ FROM STRENG TH TO STRENG TIL” 1 2 7 

“You’re right down stingy,” cried Elizabeth. 
“Aunt Fontaine always had rich cake or mince pie 
for me, if I wanted it between meals, and we had 
cake, pie, preserves, and pickles on the table three 
times a day.” 

“ All of which spoiled your appetite, ruined your 
digestion, tended to the destruction of complexion, 
prevented your building up muscle. I want to give 
you a foundation for physical improvement. I 
don’t despair of seeing you able to leave your chair 
and bed some day, Elizabeth, and to secure that, 
you must live hygienically. Have a lunch when 
you wish it ; there will always be beef tea, graham 
crackers, bread and butter, lemonade, raw egg, 
whipped with lemon and sugar. That will be 
wholesome.” 

Davy entered her complaints. “ I like hot bread. 
Why don’t we have soda biscuits ? My coffee isn’t 
half strong enough. Why isn’t there coffee at 
noon ? Why don’t you have mince and lemon 
pies ? There hasn’t been a slice of fruit cake on 
the table since you came here.” 

“ Go look in the glass Davy, and see how much 
clearer your complexion is since I came, and how 
clear your eyes are,” said Ann, laughing. “ I’m 
building you up for the future, not merely pamper- 
ing your appetite for the present. You haven’t 
said headache for two months, and you haven’t 
skipped a meal for a month. You used to say 
you were not hungry at meal time.” 

“ Well, now there’s nothing of any account to get 


128 


TOWARD THE GLORY GA TE. 


between meals, and what pickles, preserves and 
common cake is in the storeroom I can’t have, for 
Maggie’s set up a key.” 

“ You will always find plenty of apples, graham 
crackers and bread and butter,” said Ann, who knew 
all about that key. 

“ Well, who wants to eat that kind of stuff ? ” 

“ Hungry people,” said Ann, very calmly, “ and if 
one is not hungry one certainly should not eat. The 
Scripture, * Do thyself no harm,’ may go a good 
way. We should remember that we are here for 
loving, joyous service of our Lord, and when we 
lower our vitality and weaken health, we rob our 
God. There is a good French saying, ‘ Quand la 
bete est genee, elle gene l’ame.’ That is, when the 
body is irritated, it irritates the indwelling soul. 
Let us keep sound bodies and calm, strong souls. 
Then the soul will always be ready to see and pur- 
sue the right, and the body will be its willing in- 
strument.” 

Maggie had her queries about the housekeeping. 
“ Miss Bradford, when are we going to do the fall 
preserving ? ” 

“ What preserving, Maggie ? I see many jars of 
preserves in the store-closet now.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Mis’ Fontaine an’ me, we put up 
the strawberries, the early cherries, an’ the currant 
jelly, ’fore she was took. She always put up late 
pears in pickle, an’ preserves, apple an’ quince jelly, 
an’ quince preserve, about this season.” 

“ There are none of these fruits on the place ? ” 


“ FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH 


129 


“ Land no. We bought ’em,” said Maggie. 

“ And there was the sugar, and the time,” said 
Ann, “ that made them pretty expensive. Now, I 
have no time nor inclination to make preserves ; 
and I’m sure you have enough to do, without crowd- 
ing that Work in, Maggie. Such things are not 
needful, nor are they healthful ; and they are costly. 
As I have these two children to see through college, 
and some other heavy expenses to meet for the 
next four years, I must be economical. I don’t 
want to set a poor table, nor am I stingy, but I 
cannot be wasteful, and I want you to help me run 
the kitchen department as comfortably and econom- 
ically as possible.” 

“ Why, of course,” said Maggie, “ and as for 
stingy, you spend full as much as Miss Fontaine, 
only in a different way. The house looks much 
prettier and pleasanter, and the girls are much bet- 
ter dressed. ’Pears to me your money tells better, 
Miss Bradford.” 

“Aunt Fontaine did the very best, according to 
the way she was brought up,” said Ann, “but I’ve 
come up a different way. I suppose the world moves 
on, Maggie, but I never expect to be a better 
Christian than my aunt, nor a nobler woman.” 

“ Yes, that’s sure, she was a good woman ; and 
she’s gone to her reward. But so long as you’re 
here, speaking of kitchen affairs, Miss Bradford, 
there's the pig. You know we’ve raised the pig to 
kill — and it’s a big one, and come cold weather, 
along Thanksgiving time, why, Mis’ Fontaine she 
9 


130 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

had the pig killed, and we put up lard and sausage, 
and I made headcheese, and we smoked the hams 
and shoulders, and a strip or two of bacon.” 

Ann Bradford looked thoroughly disgusted. She 
had kept well away from the pig-pen in its distant 
corner of the lot, and she had not contemplated its 
grunting occupant in the light of future provisions. 
However, Ann was prompt in her thinking. 

“ Since the pig is there, and must be killed,” she 
said, “ and you and Mr. Black understand the matter, 
you must see to it whenever it seems proper to do 
it. I know nothing about it, and shall have nothing 
to do with it. I have better use for my time, in 
teaching these girls, doing the sewing that C’list’an 
cannot do, keeping the house in order, and try- 
ing to do some social and church work. Here- 
after, we will not keep a pig. I don’t believe much 
in pork eating. A pig is a noisy, unhealthful animal 
to have about, and I think there should be a town 
ordinance against keeping pigs. Pigs in town bring 
fevers and sore throats. If Dillburg is behind the 
times, there’s no reason why I should be. When 
you’ve executed that unhappy animal, Maggie, I 
shall have the pen chopped into kindling-wood, 
and that end of the lot turned into an asparagus 
bed.” And Ann, not fully in harmony with village 
domesticity, went to give Davy her Latin lesson. 

The lessons were usually recited in Elizabeth’s 
room. Ann thought they might prove help and in- 
centive to Elizabeth. Indeed, they did set Eliza- 
beth thinking. 


“ FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH: 


“ Ann,” she said, “ why are you so thorough about 
all that you do ? ” 

“ Because, as a servant of God, I am in all things 
working for God, and it is written, ‘ Cursed be he 
that doeth the work of the Lord deceitfully.’ Better 
reason than fear of a curse is to follow the example 
of the Lord I love, who does well all that he does ; 
and again, I cannot feel that anything done for him 
can be too well done. ” 

“You have a deal of patience with Davy,” said 
Elizabeth, “ and she really interferes with your just 
rights very often.” 

“ George MacDonald says, that * one of the grand- 
est things about having rights is, that being your 
rights you can give them up, for love and peace 
sake,’ ” said Ann, smiling. 

“Ann,” said Elizabeth, “things don’t seem to 
worry or ruffle you much ; I’ve watched you. Things 
fret me — how do you do it ? ” 

“ Naturally, as you are less well and strong, dear 
child, you are more nervous and easily fretted than 
I am. But there is a place of calm for you, too, 
dear Elizabeth, I have found it, ‘ Dwell in the rock, 
and be like the dove, that maketh her nest in the 
sides of the hole’s mouth.” 

“ I don’t understand such things as you do,” 
said Elizabeth, forlornly, “ but I ought to get some 
where or do something, for Davy is always ahead 
of me. She has everything, and I have noth- 
ing.” 

Elizabeth’s jealousy of Davy distressed Ann ex- 


i3 2 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


ceedingly, she looked at the fretting girl with sym- 
pathy, saying, “ Elizabeth, there is no reason why 
Davy should surpass you in a noble spiritual living^ 
nor in a well-ordered mind, filled with general in- 
formation. You have been taking hold of the work 
of our Pilgrim’s Progress Class, and of our two 
clubs, very nicely, and I know you enjoy it. I wish 
I could persuade you to really study some each day. 
It will be as easy for me to teach you French, as to 
teach Davy Latin ; and if you would begin now, to 
study two hours in the morning and one in the 
afternoon, taking up French and literature, you 
could put in a good winter’s work. Try it, Eliza- 
beth, for three months, and if after that trial you 
find that you do not enjoy it, or it is not good for your 
health, I will say no more about it. If you have 
real mental occupation you will not be worrying so 
much over yourself or Davy.” 

“ Well,” said Elizabeth, slowly, “ I will try it. I 
hate so to be the last and least of everything ! By 
the time I’ve spent all my money on books, I expect 
I’ll give the whole thing up.” 

“You can have books of mine, until Davy needs 
them for her Freshman year. That will give them 
to you for a year and a half, and by then you’ll need 
others for yourself,” and Ann hastened away to 
bring down French grammar and dictionary, English 
literature, and other books. “ There,” she said, as 
she placed them all, with tablets and pencils, on a 
round table near Elizabeth’s chair, “you look quite 
literary already. Why should you not go on in your 


“ FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH” 133 

studies, until you write lovely stories, as Dorothy 
Camp does ? ” 

“ No,” said Elizabeth, sadly, “ no ; Davy means 
to write the stories.” 

“ More than one in a family can write — the family 
of Guizot the historian, were all writers : himself, 
his first and second wife, his son, and his two 
daughters. A family of such similar tastes must 
be delightful.” 

“Unless they were jealous, and hated each other 
for it.” 

“ O Elizabeth ! do not think such things. ‘ He 
that loveth not his brother abideth in death.’ Where 
love of Jesus dwells in a home, there jealous rivalry 
and envy die away.” 

Ann found another way of helping on Elizabeth. 
One day a pleasant, delicate-looking woman came to 
her, with a note of introduction from Doctor Helen 
Train. “ I live,” she said, “ by teaching embroid- 
ery ; I have been very ill, and Doctor Train has been 
so good to me. She thought it would benefit my 
health to have a change and travel a little ; and so 
I am going from town to town, staying for a week in 
each, teaching all kinds of fancy work. I want a 
quiet home in each town, a room where the ladies, 
who wish to learn of me, can come, and I should so 
like to pay for it in giving lessons in the family.” 
She glanced about. “You look so kind, and it is 
so pleasant here, is there no one I could teach ? 
Might I stay here ? I’ll be so little trouble.” 

Ann felt a longing to help this struggling sister, 


134 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


and there was Elizabeth. She had greatly wished 
to beguile Elizabeth into more use of her hands. 
Mrs. Percy had said to her, and she had felt herself, 
that Elizabeth was allowing her hands and arms to 
weaken by disuse, and that her whole system would 
be helped, if she could be brought to use her muscles 
more. She explained the case to little Miss Adams. 
“ If you could interest Elizabeth in your talk and 
pretty work ; tell her stories of the city, and of your 
experiences ! You could be a help to her and to 
me, if you could rouse her to a little enthusiasm 
over this work.” 

Miss Adams’s face brightened. This was such a 
pleasant way of putting it: it made her feel inde- 
pendent. “I believe I could,” she said, “for I 
am enthusiastic myself. Doctor Train calls me a 
‘ needle artist.’ ” 

“At noon, Arthur can take your advertisement 
down to the newspaper office, and after dinner you 
had better go and see Mrs. Percy, and Mrs. Gil- 
lespie, and some other ladies who may be inter- 
ested in what you have to show. In the meantime, 
take your box of specimens, and come see Eliza- 
beth.” 

The embroidery appeared very attractive. Davy 
went quite wild over it, but Davy was not to take 
lessons. 

“ Your studies are enough, and I cannot afford 
it for you, dear, the material is expensive. Some 
time Elizabeth may be able to teach you, when she 
is proficient,” said Ann. 


“ FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH.” 135 

“ You never do anything for me ! ” cried Davy, 
angrily, but in fact this learning embroidery was but 
the whim of a moment, because the patterns and 
material were exquisite, and Davy loved beauty. 
On the whole, she hated a needle more than she 
loved wrought roses. 

Davy’s petulant “ You never do anything for me,” 
did not hinder Ann from saying to her next day at 
dinner, — 

“ Davy, why is it that you never ask one of your 
young friends to take tea with you ? Wouldn’t you 
like to do it ? ” 

“ Ask a body to tea ! ” cried Davy ; “ Aunt Fon- 
taine would have fainted at the idea ! ” 

“ I shan’t faint,” said Ann, “ people ought to cul- 
tivate social and friendly ways, and know how to 
entertain company. I think it would be nice, if you 
had some one of the girls to tea'with you at least 
once a week. I’d like to know when one is coming, 
so as to have some little treat for tea. You could 
have your friend in the library, or up in your 
room, and there are plenty of books to look at, 
and I could lend you my portfolio of mounted pic- 
tures.” 

“ In your room.” The words revealed to Davy a 
sudden vision of great disorder. Yet the room was 
large, sunny, provided with nice, comfortable things. 
Ann had done away with Aunt Fontaine’s patch- 
work outer quilt, and furnished a white counter- 
pane and worked pillow-shams, which often lay on 
the floor. There were pictures on the wall, books 


136 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

on the shelves, and pots of ferns on the window- 
seat. It would be nice to sit there, laughing and 
chatting with a friend ! 

“ I’ll ask Louise Crane to-morrow ! ” cried Davy, 
and next morning Ann smiled to herself, as 
she heard a vigorous cleaning up going on in 
Davy’s room. It seemed that she had struck a way 
of getting that room in order once a week at 
least ! 

“ Is it only girls that go out to take tea ? ” asked 
Arthur, pensively. 

“ Certainly not, boys, too,” said Ann. “Tell me 
what boy you wish to ask each week. Choose the 
nicest, so the rest of us can enjoy the visits.” 

“ What is there to amuse them ? ” asked Arthur. 

“ Buy a box of dominoes out of your allowance, 
and I will show you how to make jack-straws, a fox- 
and-geese board, and a sliced map and picture,” 
said Ann. “If you haven’t things that you want, go 
to work and make them.” 

“ Do you really like all this ? ” queried Eliza- 
beth. 

“ Yes, really,” said Ann, heartily, “ and I cultivate 
the liking. I want, as Paul said, ‘ to be all things 
to all, if I may save some.’ ” 

Ann did not miss the little opportunities of giving 
pleasure. One day she happened to say, “ I never 
looked over Aunt Fontaine’s things, except those in 
one bureau, when I gave Davy the beads and the 
handkerchief, and said I would make up the brown 
silk and the best black, when she went to college. 


“ FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH.” 137 

There are two trunks full in the attic, that I must 
look over.’ , 

“ I always so wanted to look into those trunks, 1 ” 
cried Elizabeth. 

“ Then they shall be brought down right here and 
opened in your room,” said Ann. “ I think we may 
find things that would be useful to Maggie and 
C’list’an ; also things to help me out with Davy’s 
wardrobe. I don’t believe in keeping a quantity of 
goods locked up. Set them in circulation. In 
fact, Elizabeth, here’s a secret. I’m hoping I may 
find things in these trunks that will help out with 
Christmas gifts. I’m terribly short of money, and 
I won’t overstep my due allowance.” 

***** 

It was the last night of the year. Dorothy Camp 
was reading a letter from Ann Bradford. “The 
year is ending; this year of events has closed my 
college days, and has set me in such different 
scenes, and given me my life work. You ask me, 
Dorothy, if my three charges are ‘broken into har- 
ness.’ I do not know, but I do know about myself. 
I am the one that is being broken into harness, I 
think. I am less intolerant of other people’s faults. 
In a life like mine one needs to learn so much of 
self-control and self-forgetting, and of helping others. 
I think I can see myself grow. I know that all this 
discipline of a crowded and often irritating environ- 
ment shows me more and more the value and help- 
fulness of that religion which can lift us out of the 


138 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

commonplace, and set us instead in heavenly places 
in Christ Jesus. I am glad that I am forced to live 
not for myself, but for others, and that for Christ’s 
dear sake.” 

" 0 crowned soul/” said Dorothy, as she read. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 

“ The greatest truths are simplest, 

And so are the greatest men.” 

When, on the first of December, Ann Bradford 
had announced to her family that Christmas was to 
be kept, and that preparations for that festival were 
in order, great was the astonishment. 

“Aunt Fontaine never kept it,” said Elizabeth. 
“ She said it made her melancholy to think of the 
holidays, and she wished that they never came. 
The only thing she did extra was, on the third of 
January she invited the minister and his wife, Mrs. 
Percy and Mrs. Gage, old Miss Nunn, widow Bod- 
win, and that old colporteur, Mr. Lett, and his wife ? 
to spend the afternoon and take tea. They came at 
four and left at nine, and Aunt Fontaine had a 
‘great supper. They enjoyed it no end. The third 
of January was her birthday ; she said she ought to 
keep it, whether she was happy or not, for life was 
a gift to be thankful for, as it was the gate through 
which we get to heaven.” 

“ That is a good thought, and helpful to us when 
we begin to complain and wonder why and for what 
we ever were made. I have done that sometimes, 
though I always repent of it. We will not let these 

139 


140 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


good people be disappointed this year. We will in- 
vite them on the third, and keep on doing so, if we 
live, as long as one of them is left to come.” 

“ Aunt said,” cried Davy, returning to the first 
proposition, “ that keeping Christmas was all super- 
stition ; she said that we do not know the true date 
of Christ’s birth, that anyway he was not born at 
the season we call Christmas.” 

“ Aunt Fontaine was ‘ a woman of a sorrowful 
spirit ; ’ she was ‘ as one that had a long time 
mourned for the dead,’” said Ann. “ She had had 
heavy trials, but now that her trials are over, and 
she and all she loved and mourned are happy in 
heaven, it is not necessary for us to let the shadow 
of her troubles fall over our lives. The Bible gives 
us warrant for keeping such joyous feasts as Christ- 
mas. God says to Israel : Go your ways, eat the 
fat, drink the sweet, and send a portion to him that 
hath none.’ As for the day, it is true that there is a 
difference of opinion as to the date of our Lord’s 
birth, but it is certain that he was sometime born in 
human flesh, to be our Saviour, and Brother of our 
blood, the Gift of gifts, giving his ownself for our 
sakes. When we celebrate a day in honor of his 
birth, and try to do it in the kindly, sympathetic 
spirit of our Lord, then it makes no difference 
whether it is exactly the date of his birth or not, 
we honor and remember him all the same. Sup- 
pose, by some accident, while we observe the 
twenty-second of February as the birthday of Wash- 
ington, he had really been born some other day? 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 


141 

We should recall, venerate, and exalt him just the 
same on the day we named his anniversary. ,, 

“We kept Christmas always at school,” said 
Arthur. “We had a tree trimmed, and we all got 
candy-bags with nuts and raisins, and an orange 
and a little frosted cake. We played games, had 
tableaux ; it was real nice ! We were all so good 
and pleasant for a month after it.” 

“All my life I have kept Christmas,” said Ann. 
“ My parents kept it, and while I was at school and 
college some kind person was sure to ask me for the 
holidays.” 

Ann was delighted to see that Elizabeth entered 
into the Christmas-keeping idea heartily. She sent 
C’list’an for samples of wool plaids and for fashion 
books, and bought for Davy a beautiful plaid dress, 
choosing the style of making, and sending it with 
one of Davy’s frocks to a dressmaker. 

“ Davy has always been longing for a plaid gown,” 
said Elizabeth, “but Aunt Fontaine said it was ‘too 
gaudy.’ I think she’ll look real pretty in it.” 

So Davy did, and when she put it on, admiring 
the effect, she felt more lovingly toward the sister, 
“who had all the money, while she had none.” 
Elizabeth, on her part, had kindlier emotions to- 
ward Davy, “ who had everything, while she had 
nothing.” 

When Aunt Fontaine’s big trunks were looked 
over in Elizabeth’s room, Ann deftly secreted a 
little box bearing the name of the insane sister ; it 
contained a gold thimble and a crimson vinaigrette, 


142 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


which made Christmas gifts for Elizabeth ; and a 
small ruby ring that went to Davy ; all with no bur- 
densome tales or memories of their first unfortunate 
owner. They found also a jointed fishing-rod, and 
a travelling-cup in a leather case, no doubt once the 
property of the brother whose debt Ann was yet 
paying. “They’ll just suit for Arthur,” said Eliza- 
beth, who, in spite of her prejudices, really liked 
the little lad. 

“And we will not tell him who had them before 
him,” said Ann. The three girls also gave Arthur 
a big sled. There were presents for C’list’an, Mag- 
gie, Mr. Black. Elizabeth put her new skill in em- 
broidery to use in working a bureau-scarf for Ann. 
The day before Christmas, Maggie cooked good 
things all the day long, while Davy and Arthur were 
allowed to pop corn, crack nuts, and make molasses 
and peanut candy in the evening. Elizabeth had 
prepared six big, pink tarlatan bags, which were 
filled with the trophies of Maggie’s and the chil- 
dren’s skill, and next day were distributed to six poor 
children, who otherwise would have had no Christ- 
mas. With the bags Ann sent various scrap-books, 
full of pictures, boxes of paper-dolls, little, dressed 
china dolls, and other toys, which for a week she 
had been manufacturing. 

There were very few really poor people in Dill- 
burg, the town was on a quiet level of moderate 
means. What few poor there were, Ann seemed to 
have discovered, and to each family went a pumpkin 
pie, a loaf of gingerbread, a pan of milk, and some 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 


143 


of Maggie’s new sausage. All this largess, Davy 
and Arthur carried off in baskets Christmas morn- 
ing, their joyful faces, as they dragged the laden sled, 
making the gifts still a brighter benediction. 

“ There’s a fair procession going out of this gate,” 
said C’list’an, who was happy enough, having been 
told she could invite her brother to dine with her. 

To Mrs. Percy went mince pie and seed cakes, 
on a server daintily trimmed in vines and ever- 
greens ; to the parsonage a similar token of remem- 
brance. Ann had been to the woods with Davy 
and Arthur, bringing back trimming for the 
house, prince’s pine, juniper, holly, and cedar. The 
rooms looked gay enough and the house was full of 
laughter. 

On New Year’s Eve, Davy and Arthur had a 
party, the first party either of them had ever had. 
Davy wore the new plaid, the gold chain, and ruby 
ring, and felt sure that she never could be cross 
and stubborn again. Ann had said nothing about 
Davy’s room except : “ The girls will lay off their 
wraps in your room, Davy.” 

“Whoop! won’t it have to look nice?” cried 
Arthur. “ I’ll help you, Davy. We’ll rub the 
windows and wipe the walls, as C’list’an does Eliza- 
beth’s ; and we’ll trim the bureau and the windows 
with green things.” 

“One would think we were millionaires here,” 
said Elizabeth, on the day after Aunt Fontaine’s 
regular birthday party had been kept, and so con- 
cluded the festivities of the holiday season. 


144 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ It has cost very little money indeed. I have 
kept strict account,” said Ann. “ We all put a deal 
of time into it ; your and my sewing, Maggie’s cook- 
ing went a long way. The material has been inex- 
pensive. Ten dollars would cover gifts, parties, and 
all. The largest basketful went to old Mr. Lett, but 
as we raised the chicken that went into it roasted, 
and Maggie made the bread, cake and pies, the jelly 
and pickles were from our own store-room, and the 
shawl was one of Aunt Fontaine’s, there was not 
much real cost to that even. This year there was 
so much of Aunt Fontaine’s to give away, we came 
out nicely. Next year we’ll have to begin earlier, 
and let our work tell more. I fancy, as I am such 
a slow knitter, it will take me the entire year to knit 
mittens for Davy, Arthur and the servants.” 

Elizabeth laughed. “ You are planning a long 
way ahead.” 

“ That saves time and money. But really, Eliza- 
beth, does not this Christmas keeping draw people 
nearer together, and call out the good that is in 
them ? An old writer says, ‘ Ye Chrystmas is a 
great breeder of good feelyngs.’ ” 

“ I believe that is so,” laughed Elizabeth. “ Davy 
and I have been much civiler to each other for a 
month past.” 

“ You and Davy only need to have the real sisterly 
lovingness that is in you called out,” said Ann, 
quietly. 

“ No one but you ever discerned that sisterly loving- 
ness,” said Elizabeth, and added after a pause, “ Ann 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS . 


J 4S 


I read lately somewhere, * He had such a gentle 
manner of reproving their faults, that they were not 
so much afraid as ashamed to repeat them.’ It 
made me think of you.” 

There were hours when Ann Bradford had her 
compensations. 

Arthur had learned to ride ; Ann was teaching 
him and Davy to skate. These expeditions to the 
pond, when the three set forth joyful, swinging 
skates, and came home rosy, warm, hungry, de- 
lighted, did not fail to fill Elizabeth with wrath. She 
was sure to say fierce, ugly things. Knowing this, 
Davy and Arthur absented themselves from her 
society, except at the tea-table, betaking themselves 
to the back-parlor for lessons, and a game of domi- 
noes before they went to bed. Ann would not so 
leave Elizabeth alone in the evening ; it was enough 
that she had been left w’hile they went skating. 
Ann therefore sat and chatted or read to her, ignor- 
ing her tart speeches. Very often Elizabeth re- 
pented the next morning. She said as much once, 
when Ann was patiently helping her with her French, 
having just spent an hour in mounting several pic- 
tures for her. 

“ I declare now, Miss Elizabeth,” said C’list’an, 
“ the way Miss Bradford is working for you, and the 
way you carried on last night for nothing at all, 
except that the Lord saw fit to make her and the 
children strong enough to skate, and you not. It’s 
clean fighting of the Lord, that’s what it is.” 

“ I know,” said Elizabeth, looking covertly at 
io 


1 46 'TO WARD THE GLOR Y GA TE. 

Ann, “ and I usually am sorry next day, so that 
settles it.” 

“ I don’t know as that settles it,” said C’list’an. 

“ Elizabeth,” said Ann, looking up from her work 
of knitting Elizabeth some wool slippers, “ I do 
not speak for my own part, but for yours. I wish 
you would remember a saying of Thackeray’s. 
‘ You cannot order remembrance out of the mind : 
a wrong that was a wrong yesterday must be a 
wrong to-morrow.” 

Elizabeth became tearful. “ Ann Bradford, you 
ought to have more patience with me ! I can’t be 
like other folks, and other folks are worse than I 
am. You’ve told Davy that she must not go to the 
post-office and the station, for those are not places 
for nice girls, and she goes. There is that Arthur, 
he plays with Tim Dixon, when you forbid him, 
and Tim swore right at our house, yesterday. 

“ I know it, Elizabeth, it is all very wrong ; but I 
can safely say that it will not happen again, after 
I talk with those two culprits to-night,” replied Ann, 
still calmly. 

What Ann said to her culprits no one knew, but 
the evils mentioned were not repeated, indeed she 
kept the frisky pair pretty well in hand. Said Mr. 
Black to Maggie, “ It beats all how quiet-like Miss 
Bradford manages them two children ! There’s 
Mis’ Nixon is hollerin’ an’ threatenin’ after her 
boys, most of the time, but don’t do much good. 
Miss Bradford fetches about what she wants, most 
generally pretty prompt. Wal, Maggie, it’s this 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 


*47 


way — hail on a tin roof makes a sight of noise, but 
none of it goes through. Mind what I say, it’s 
shot that tells ! ” 

One day in March, Mrs. Prentice, one of the 
young married women of Dillburg, came to see Ann. 
“ I have been deputed to ask a favor of you,” she 
said. “ There are ten or a dozen of us young 
dames here in town, who either graduated at the 
high school, or went away to school for a year or 
so. Since we married, we have let all our studies 
drop ; have done very little reading ; we are losing 
all we ever knew, and we feel ashamed of our- 
selves. Some of us have sisters in your young 
girls’ club, and we find they are away beyond us 
in general information, knowledge of books, and 
interest in really useful subjects. We have little 
children growing up about us, and if we go on as 
we have, we shall be very unhelpful mothers to 
them, when we send them to school. I, for one, 
have been much benefited in many ways by the 
Missionary Reading Club. Now we want to form a 
club, to meet for two hours, on one afternoon each 
week, the time and place to suit you, and we want 
you to take charge of the club, and give us the 
benefit of your better education, and make really 
honest workers of us.” 

“ I should be delighted to do it,” said Ann, “ for 
I am very fond of these study clubs, and find them 
so helpful to myself that I must always try and make 
room in my life for them. I will stipulate that you 
choose the place and day of meeting, and the subject 


1 48 TO WA RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

of study, for you know better than I do, your tastes 
and opportunities.” 

“ We had talked it over a little,” said Mrs. Pren- 
tice, “ and one of our number said that a friend of 
hers, a club member somewhere, wrote her that they 
were studying ‘ The Victorian Era.’ She said that 
brought in a deal of general history, church history, 
biography, scientific discoveries, great inventions. 
She said too, it had been a world of work for the 
leader to prepare the studies.” 

“ I should not mind that,” said Ann, “ I need a 
world of work to keep me from rusting, and from 
losing what it took a slow mortal like me §0 long to 
gain.” 

As they went to the door Mrs. Prentice said, 
“ Your place and Mrs. Percy’s are ornaments to 
Dillburg ! How well their house looks, all nicely 
painted. They always kept a pretty yard, and yours 
will be beautiful. Your example will be followed. 
Mrs. Spencer is going to have a verandah like this 
on the house they are building, and I told Mr. 
Prentice to-day, that we must paint our house, it 
, would look too slovenly for anything, close beside 
Mrs. Spencer’s bright new one. Next week I am 
going to build me a rockery. I have taken such a 
fancy to yours. Where did you get your ferns, and 
such things ? ” 

“ In the woods. Suppose you go out with us 
the first pleasant Saturday, and we will all get 
some.” 

“ Indeed, I should be delighted to. It would do 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 


149 

me good to see this dull town trying to put on 
garments of praise.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Ann, joyfully, “ I have thought of 
something so nice, something for you to inaugurate ! 
I read lately in a magazine, of a ‘ Village Improve- 
ment Society.’ People in a little, dismal, sleepy vil- 
lage woke up, and went to work to create beauty in 
some simple, common-sense, inexpensive way. 
Nearly every one joined the society, ladies and 
gentlemen, each one contributed of his own taste, 
new ideas, labor ; the enthusiasm spread, the yards 
and houses were improved, then the streets, and the 
sanitary condition of the town were taken in hand, 
then the churches were renovated, and the public 
buildings, until the place became a model of beauty, 
refinement, healthfulness. We may not gain all that 
here in Dillburg, but we might do much, and you 
and Mr. Prentice as born here, and among the lead- 
ing people, are the very ones to inaugurate the move- 
ment.” 

“ I’ll talk to Mr. Prentice about it this very 
evening.” 

“ Yes, it is time to begin, one should plant trees 
at once. I am going to have four set out along my 
sidewalk, next week.” 

“ The cows and pigs running loose, will ruin 
them.” 

“ I’ll box them. Some day we may secure an or- 
dinance for keeping animals shut up, and not turn 
our village streets into filthy pastures.” 

“ I don’t believe we ever can. The cows and 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


* 5 ° 

pigs are the household gods in Dillburg, it seems 
to me,” laughed Mrs. Prentice. 

“ Wait and see to what extent your ‘ Village Im- 
provement Society ’ will cultivate good taste, and 
hygienic notions.” 

When Ann told Elizabeth about the new club, 
Elizabeth exclaimed, “ Why didn’t you say it must 
meet here ? You know how much I like a club 
to meet in my room ; and here you’ll deprive 
me of that, and go off regularly every week for 
an afternoon and leave me alone. You are so 
selfish. ’ 

Now Ann had never before heard Elizabeth so 
much as hint that she liked her society, or a club. 
She had seen that Elizabeth seemed to take in- 
terest in the clubs, and their work, but she had 
never spoken of it. This was all good news, 
though petulantly uttered, and Ann rejoiced. 

“ I will write to Mrs. Prentice, and send Arthur 
with the note this evening, asking if they will meet 
here,” she said. 

“ Don’t say I asked it ! ” cried Elizabeth. “ I 
hate to ask favors.” 

When later Elizabeth heard Ann tell Davy and 
Arthur that they soon should go to the woods, root 
and plant seeking with Mrs. Prentice, Elizabeth be- 
came angry. “You are going to begin that again ! 
You are as selfish as you can be ! You just do it to 
get away from me, and tantalize me ! If you need 
exercise, you can work here in the yard, and if you 
want ferns and other woods-trash, send Mr. Black, 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 


*51 

he can spare the time ; he is always pottering about, 
doing nothing.” 

“ Elizabeth, you do yourself great injury by such 
talk ; you are saying what you do not believe. You 
assign to us motives which you know are all your 
own imaginations. It is wrong and most dangerous 
to try to cheat ourselves.” 

“ Why is it ? Whose business is it if I choose to 
cheat myself ? ” 

“ ‘ Friends, if we be honest with ourselves, we 
shall be honest with one another,’ George Mac- 
Donald says,” said Ann, “ and Plato says, that 
* nothing is more corrupting to the mind than the lie 
cherished in the soul.’ ” When Ann had said this, 
she went out of the room, and left Elizabeth to think 
it over. This was her method of dealing with 
Elizabeth. Much of her irritability and selfishness 
must be passed over ; Ann pleasantly ignored all 
that she could. Then sometimes she seized an 
occasion which covered a deal of ground, and made 
some remarks which went deep down into the roots 
of things, and left Elizabeth to think it out. Usually 
the effect of such a lesson was very good. Eliza- 
beth began to understand that there were limits set 
to her encroachments, limits which she must not 
overpass, and she had too much intelligence to fail 
of receiving a benefit from frank talk and steady 
thinking. 

“ I think, Miss Bradford,” said Lawyer Grace, 
when Ann paid him her usual once-a-month visit, to 
talk over finances, “ that you are getting on pretty 


TO WA RD THE GLOR Y G A TE. 


J 5 2 

well with your affairs. The property is very much 
improved, and so are the Tracy girls. It is a pleas- 
ure to meet Davy, she looks so bright and happy. 
You did a good thing for the boy, too, when you 
brought him here.” 

“ I think so. The little' man is every way better 
off, and my pocket is much relieved. I have been 
able, by careful management, to save a good slice 
of income this year, and hope to do so next, though 
when I have Davy away expenses will be greater. 
Still, I must save pretty well now, if I am to have 
two of them in college at once,” said Ann. 

“ So you will, so you will, and that before you 
are relieved of that four hundred a year encum- 
brance,” said Mr. Grace. “ I don't quite see how 
you’ll make it out.” 

“ Well, on one thing I’m resolved, — not to worry 
about it — care kills, and then why need I have cares 
to worry me ? It is written : “ Casting all your care 
upon him ; for he careth for you.” 

“ Can you do that, Miss Ann ? ” 

“ Why I have to do it, if I am to get along at all. 
All the cares, the little cares especially, for they are 
the ones that sting and fret, and wear out life. 
Great trials we can get up heroism to meet, pride 
and emulation may stir us to conquer them, the lit- 
tle cares would gnaw into our souls daily, so I am 
glad that it is written, ‘casting all your care.’ ” 

“ Child,” said the old man, “ you have learned the 
true secret of living.” 

“ Of course,” said Ann, “ I look forward, and I 


FELLOW TEA FELL EES. 


!53 


plan this and that, that I may do, but not in an 
anxious way. For instance, I think if I am in a 
tight place, after Davy and Arthur are gone, I may 
take two or three boarders, for a year. I should 
not enjoy it, but I might have to do it ; and then I 
suppose the Lord would send me pleasant, paying 
boarders. I think if ever we are really called to do 
anything, then the Lord makes the doing of it pos- 
sible. It is written : ‘ If ye be willing and obedient 
ye shall eat the good of the land.’ ” 

“ Can you always live on this high spiritual plane, 
Miss Ann ? ” 

“ Indeed, no ; but when I am down in the 
depths, I know that the reason of it is in me. 
I change, the Christ never changes. Spurgeon 
says, ‘ There is no way out of the depths but up.’ 
When I get into darkness, it is mostly, as I told 
you, because of the little, vexing pin-pricking trou- 
bles. When Davy sets off to school with two buttons 
hanging loose on her boots, every finger of her 
gloves needing repair ; when Arthur has, I am sure, 
been reading travels, and neglecting his lesson in 
arithmetic, or when he slides off out of the back- 
door and gate, to conceal irom me the fact that he 
has not polished his shoes ; when Mr. Black tells 
me that the neighbors’ boys have broken a pane 
in the barn-window, or broken palings from my 
back fence ; when Mrs. Stone’s festive goat leaps 
the fence, nibbles my shrubs, and when I remon- 
strate, she replies that her goat is none of my busi- 
ness ; when Mr. Dibbs keeps a calf, that bawls 


154 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


night and day for three months — then I often feel 
so desperate, that my religion seems to me a sham 
and my faith a fiction, and I appear to myself to 
be one of Bunyan’s * fair-weather Christians,’ or 
one of those swift-sprung seeds of the parable, that 
when tribulation cometh vanish away.’* 

Such experiences as these were no myths, they 
came again and again to Ann Bradford, taking 
her unawares, as usually do those temptations 
which disturb the serenity of a Christian. 

In May, Dorothy Camp came to visit her aunts 
for a few days : this was an oasis in Ann’s life. 
She and Dorothy were together constantly. They 
were sitting on the verandah one morning, when 
Ann asked Dorothy to go with her to a favorite 
flower-bed, where some young plants were doing 
very well. Lo, while Ann’s chickens were secured 
behind the tall palings of the hen-yard, Mrs. Stone’s 
feathered marauders had made great wallows in the 
pet flower-bed, and the young plants were uprooted ! 

“It does seem an outrage,” said Ann, “to be 
obliged to disfigure one’s flower-garden with brush, 
on account of the neighbors’ fowls.” Returned to 
the porch, presently an errant pig of the street 
put his nose under the front gate, gave it a scien- 
tific twist, opened it, and came in. Ann ran to 
drive him out. “ There, I know now how that 
beast gets in— he is constantly making raids on 
my lawn. Mr. Black must put a better fastening 
on that gate.” 

As the friends talked, the monotonous ding-ling , 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS . 


*55 

ding-ling, of the cow-bells constantly echoed along 
the street, as their wearers grazed the fresh grass 
by the sidewalks. 

“ How wearisome that continuous ding, ding, 
ding is,” said Dorothy. “ It seems as if I have 
heard it every hour since I came here ! How 
glad I am that I live in the city, where at least 
the sounds are those of civilized life ! Why do 
village people make their streets unendurable by 
turning them into cow-pastures ? ” * 

This completed Ann’s exasperation. “ Yes,” she 
said, “ I am obliged to hear those abominable 
bells the year round, and for a change the howl- 
ing of Mr. Dibbs’ dog, which, being of a vagrant 
turn of mind, is kept tied up in the wood-shed. 

0 Dorothy, sometimes I wonder why I ever came 
here, why I have to stay here ! I feel as if I 
must fly Dillburg. I repeat : 

‘ Better fifty years of Europe, than a cycle of Cathay! ’ 

It is not merely ‘that which cometh upon me 
daily,’ the care of the children, the house, the 
finances ; it is not merely that by birth and breed- 
ing I am urban, and have no strong affinities with 
rural life ; not merely that when I go to the city, 
my feet feel as if glued to the pavements so that 

1 cannot tear them away; it is not merely that I 
hate chickens in my flower-beds, pigs in my lawn, 
and cows on my sidewalks, and howling dogs tied 
under my window; not merely that Mrs. Stone, at 
my back fence, feels that she was sent into the 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


156 

world to encroach on her neighbors, and Mr. Dibbs 
was created without any sense of decency in his 
composition. What is far worse is the lack of 
library privileges, the reading-rooms, the museums, 
the galleries, the picture exhibitions, the lectures, 
the intellectual life of the city. I am not like 
Mrs. Baron, or Mrs. Waldeck, or Sara Fordyce, a 
fund of information to myself ; I am too immature, 
I am not intellectual enough for that; I feel my- 
self rusting out mentally, getting thought-shallower 
daily. I am not one who should lead, I am made 
rather to follow, and here I must lead, if I do 
anything. I have had more opportunities than 
the others, except Mrs. Gillespie, and she has five 
young children, and her cares in the congregation ; 
so leading, planning, helping, come on me, and I 
am rather such an one as should learn than teach. 
O Dorothy Camp ! I get sick to death of all 
these people ! I long for my helpful college friends, 
for my teachers ; I want to see some one to lift me 
up, large souls to encourage me to rise. To which- 
ever one I turn here, it is all the same story, all 
are on the same dead, low level! ” 

“ My child,” said Dorothy Camp, replying to this 
passionate breakdown of Ann’s courage, “ dear child, 
you pursue the horizon. To-day, if you want to 
converse with great men, you need only carry them 
in your trunk, bound in calfskin. Wherever you 
may go, now that college purlieus are passed, and 
you have fallen into the line of the world’s work- 
ers, you must look to h$lp rather than to be helped ; 


FELLOW TRAVELLERS. 


*57 


to teach, rather than to be taught of human teach- 
ers ; circumstances and soul-experiences must be 
your teachers, and if you want to rise it must be 
on the ashes of your own mistakes, the fallen 
corpses of your own errors : 

‘ I hold it truth with him who sings 
To one clear harp in divers tones, 

That men may rise on stepping-stones 
Of their dead selves to higher things. 

But who shall so forecast the years, 

And find in loss a gain to match, 

Or reach a hand through time to catch 
The far-off interest of tears ? ” 

“God can,” said Ann, faith coming to the rescue, 
after her momentary discouragement. 

“ Hold on to that, then,” said Dorothy, “ and 
you’ll always be on vantage ground, with your spirit- 
ual foes beneath your feet.” 

“ I know,” said Ann, half smiling, half crying, 
“ that you think me ridiculous and miserably weak, 
after that outburst.” 

“ I do not,” said Dorothy, “ I have just such 
times myself : everybody has. There is always 
some joint in the armor, where the arrows of ‘out- 
rageous fortune ’ can enter.” 

“You know,” said Ann, “there is no one here to 
whom I can speak out my thoughts, as I can to you. 
I must keep all to myself, and when the opportunity 
of expression came, it was the opening of the flood- 
gates.” 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


I 5 8 

“ I want to warn you of one thing,” said Dorothy, 
“ and that is of allowing your wider nature to be 
dwarfed by the smaller minds about you. There is 
Elizabeth, for instance : she is most desperately 
selfish and encroaching, and will want you entirely 
pledged to herself, and to think only for her. Any 
one human being is a circle too narrow for another 
soul to do all its turning in. We cannot live in one 
person alone, no matter how dear that one may be. 
Dr. Train was telling me lately of a friend and 
patient of hers, who had a very exacting husband ; 
he was a good man, but his jealous possessiveness 
demanded that his wife should live, move, and 
breathe only in him and for him. She found herself 
being dwarfed and narrowed even by her altruistic 
catering to his selfishness. The expansiveness of 
her spirit would have girdled the globe ; he was bind- 
ing it to plough in a single furrow.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 

“ Fpr ’tis sweet to stammer one letter 
Of the Eternal’s language — on earth ’tis called forgiveness.” 

“ I have been here just a year, to-day,” said Ann 
to Mrs. Percy. They were sitting on Ann’s ve- 
randah. The morning-glories and moon-flowers had 
made rapid growth, and draped the wire lattices 
with green : the roses and wistaria were as yet but 
promises of beauty to come, while the transplanted 
white honeysuckle, yielded from several clusters of 
dainty tubes, rich perfume to the hot August air. 

“ You have made great changes here, in this year,” 
said Mrs. Percy. “ You should feel well satisfied : 
this does not look like the same place. Paint, the 
verandah and walk, the shrubs, and the beds of 
geraniums, asters and cannas, have made such a 
change, your dear aunt would not know the place.” 

“ I seem to have done so little of the all I wanted 
to do. Each day seems exactly like the day before, 
and no progress made.” 

“ We cannot measure our progress by days : we 
must take it by years, and give our sowing time to 

*59 


i6o TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

grow. Take a little baby, you scarcely note differ- 
ence from day to day, yet the year makes of the tiny 
helpless bundle of life, a child, walking, playing, 
trying to talk. It is year by year that tells. I have 
found it so in the growth of the soul. From day to 
day, except in seasons of large and singular expe- 
riences, that do not come often to us, we do not see 
that we make any progress toward glory ; but when 
we look over larger periods, then we can see some 
evident enlarging of our souls. When I feel really 
discouraged, as if I were the most dull, sleepy Chris- 
tian in existence, then I look back by the years, and 
I see that God has helped me to travel on towards 
the ‘ rest that remaineth.’ ” 

“ I think that may be so, and it is one way of en- 
couraging ourselves in the Lord our God, to note 
what he has done for and in us, and that he has 
led us on ; that leading is a sure token that we are 
his children,” replied Ann. 

“ Certainly,” said Mrs. Percy, “ you have every 
reason to feel thankful for a blessing on your ef- 
forts. Think how Elizabeth is.” 

“ Yes, Elizabeth has really improved. She is 
trying, I think, to reach a higher Christian life, to 
serve God, and not be so self-centered. She is less 
jealous of Davy, more generous. She has taken 
real interest in helping me get Davy ready for 
college. She bought her a gray serge traveling 
dress, a hat, and her winter coat ; you’ve no idea 
what a help it was, and better than the money 
help was the pleasantness of the thing. Elizabeth 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 161 

is better physically; she has spent so many hours 
a day out on this verandah, and she can bear to 
be wheeled gently up and down here in her chair. 
We lay a breadth of carpet over the floor, so as 
to reduce the jar. 

“ She is taking real interest in her history, litera- 
ture and French. She takes a share in the Club 
work, and now she likes to see people, instead of 
hiding gloomily from sight. She has more sources 
of happiness within herself, she has more to think 
about, and talk about. She uses her hands so much 
better in embroidering and writing. We also have 
succeeded in getting her up a little straighten” 

“ Yes, sister Gates and I have noticed all that. 
Seems to me she might pay part of Davy’s College 
bills, if you asked it.” 

“ I don’t know as I care to ask it. Elizabeth has 
fifty dollars a month. C’list’an, the laundress, and 
her pin-money out leave thirty, out of that her 
clothing — it does her real good to be nicely dressed 
— her books, embroidery materials, gifts, extras, take 
more than half of that. Mrs. Grace says there used 
to be always a druggist’s and doctor’s bill. I thought 
she used too much drugs and rich food, and that 
that brought about need for the doctor, so I cut 
them off, and she has not had a doctor this year. I 
save up any little surplus for her ; she may have 
extra needs. I don’t fear but what I can carry 
Davy’s expenses nicely now, the tug will be in two 
years, when Arthur must go also. Still, I don’t 
worry, for the Lord seems so plainly to help and 
n 


162 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


provide for all the little needs as they come. Davy 
has such a nice outfit, and it has cost so little ; then 
Dorothy is coming for a visit, and going back just 
at the right time to take Davy, and that saves my 
going with her. I have found a purchaser for the 
horse and surrey, and at fully as much as I expected, 
which provides all the first funds Davy will need. 
To-day, just as I was trying to find out the best plan 
about Mr. Black, feeling that I needed him, yet not 
for quite all his time, and so on, here you have 
made a bargain with him, for three hours daily and 
half his wages, and I have only the other half and 
his board, so I am all right about keeping him. Do 
you know, I take more comfort in watching the 
Lord’s care for me in the small matters like these, 
than even in great affairs ? In the small matters he 
is so fatherly. Any friend, even a stranger, would 
pull a child back from a precipice, or out of danger 
of drowning, or strike a poison out of his hand, but 
it is the father that thinks to give the pennies for 
marbles, to buy the top, to whittle out the little boat, 
to make the new arrows, and mend the broken toy. 
Strangers would not think of these trifles, it is the 
love, the father heart that sees the child’s desire and 
rejoices to gratify it.” 

“That is a beautiful and comforting thought,” 
said Mrs. Percy. 

“ I often wonder why I fall into gloom and dis- 
couragement with such a Father and Friend. Why 
should I ever walk in darkness, or live in a kind of 
spiritual twilight ? ” 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 163 

“ Why is not the Christian always upon the 
mountains of privilege ? ” added Mrs. Percy. 

Mr. Gillespie had entered the gate, and stepped 
upon the piazza just in time to hear this. 

“ It was not always,” he said, “that Ezekiel be- 
held * the heavens opened, and saw visions of God.’ 
Such do not come to us daily. It is partly be- 
cause of our earthly frame and estate, and partly by 
our fault. There are some rapt souls, like Mc- 
Cheyne, who dwell perpetually in the beatitudes. 
I think of Bonar also, forever on the heights, singing 
songs of glory; the light from about the sapphire 
throne falls ever on their faces, the Glory Gate is 
always wide open before them, and the light from 
within blazes all along their way. Those of us who 
are more obtuse in spirit, and of more difficult con- 
ditions, must not think that there is no Glory Gate 
because we lose sight of it now and again ; we must 
not doubt of the way because there are thorns and 
thistles, rocks and caves along it. There is a needs 
be, even for these.” 

“ You encourage me,” said Ann. “ This morning, 
as I was reading my Bible, it seemed as if the words 
came straight to me, ‘ Remember from whence thou 
art fallen, and repent, and do the first works ; or 
else I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove 
thy candlestick out of his place, unless thou repent.” 

Here C’list’an unclosed the shutters, opened the 
long windows and gently wheeled out Elizabeth’s 
chair. Elizabeth looked fresh and happy ; she had 
just had her nap. 


1 64 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

“ I came to see you Elizabeth/’ said Mr. Gil- 
lespie. “ Have you thought over what I said to you 
about uniting with the church? ” 

“Yes; but I’m such a poor kind of Christian,” 
said Elizabeth. “ I used to think I was a good 
enough one. Not of the kind that Aunt Fontaine was, 
but she was so much older, and sadder, and graver. 
I thought that made the difference. But Ann is 
young and cheerful, and likes fun, and pretty things 
and all that; and when I see what kind of a Chris- 
tian Ann is, and how she takes God into all her 
plans, and tries to fit all her actions by Bible law 
then I feel as if I am no kind of a Christian at all.” 

Ann flushed crimson at Elizabeth’s words. 

“Your church membership might be a source of 
strength and comfort to you, Elizabeth, help you to 
grow spiritually, and be a check on going wrong. 
Church membership does not save us, but it is a 
suitable thing to be united to the body of believers, 
and in fellowship with them and Christ. I think, 
Elizabeth, that you are making some progress in the 
Christian life, and trying to be patient, generous 
and helpful for Christ’s sake. Can you say 

“ ‘ Teach me to do the thing that pleaseth thee, 

Thou art my God, in whom I live and move ; 

Oh, let thy Holy Spirit lead me forth 
Into the land of righteousness and love ! ’ ” 

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, after a little pause, “I 
hope I do feel that.” 

“ From a great deal that others have you are shut 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 165 

out by your physical affliction. You should seize 
upon what comforts and helps you can have, and 
union with the visible body of Christ might be a 
chief one of these. When the five or six of your 
young friends, who are now waiting to unite with 
the Church, come to pay their vows in the house of 
God, you can be with them in heart, and in the after- 
noon some few of us can come together here, and 
you can make profession of your faith. Yesterday 

evening, Davy came to me ” 

“ Davy ! ” cried Elizabeth, Ann and Mrs. Percy, 
in a breath. 

“ Yes, Davy. She said before she went away, 
she wanted to join the church. She said she knew 
she was so crooked and perverse, and cantankerous, 
that she wasn’t fit, but all the same, she wanted 
something to hold on to. I have no doubt that 
Davy is something as she said, a freaky, hard-to- 
manage child sometimes, and always thoroughly 
original, as she was in her talk with me. Also, I have 
no doubt that Davy has the root of the matter in 
her, and sincerely desires to serve God. I asked 
her if she trusted in Christ to keep her, and she said, 
‘ Of course, whom else could she trust to ? not to 
such a queer- acting girl as herself.’ ” 

“ I have seen a change in Davy for three months,” 
said Ann. 

“ I thought she was thinking of something like 
this,” said Elizabeth, “from several things she said. 
She said once she thought ‘ Ann’s example would 
make a Christian out of a cannibal.’ ” 


i66 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


Ann sprang up and ran upstairs to her room, tears 
falling over her cheeks. What ! Elizabeth, Davy, 
really helped toward heaven by her ? Oh, how could 
she ever fail or be discouraged again, if her gracious 
Master gave her rewards so rich for such poor, small 
and feeble doing ? 

Meanwhile, on the verandah, Mr. Gillespie said 
to Elizabeth, “ Davy says she would like to unite 
here at the house with you, so that you would not 
be alone. Not that she fears to come forward at 
the church with the others, but she does not want 
you to be left alone.” 

“Does Davy think all that of cross me?” cried 
Elizabeth. Elizabeth was slowly conquering her 
jealousy of Davy, and taking more interest in her; 
her latent affection was springing into action, and 
now that Davy was going away to be absent most of 
the time, for several years, Elizabeth felt that she 
should miss her. 

Now this thoughtfulness of Davy and the new tie 
of their union with the church brought the long 
sundered hearts nearer still. When that Sabbath, 
sacred as the day of entering into visible communion 
with the church came and passed, it left a blessed 
imprint on the lives of Elizabeth and Davy, — they 
were something more to each other than they had 
been before. 

“ I suppose if Davy stayed,” said Elizabeth to 
Ann, “ that soon we would be picking at each other 
again, but as we both grow in grace and in knowl- 
edge, I suppose there will be less and less of what 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 167 

has worried you so, and I know I shall miss Davy 
when she goes.” 

Davy’s trunk was packed in Elizabeth’s room, so 
that Elizabeth could have the pleasure of seeing all 
that was put into it, and Davy delightedly tried on 
all her dresses, for her sister’s inspection. The 
Christmas plaid, and the white gown given by Ann, 
were as fresh as new. Aunt Fontaine’s brown silk 
and the black dress, trimmed with narrow velvet, 
had been made over. 

“ I declare,” said Elizabeth, “ it all looks just as 
nice as new, and is very becoming. Ann ; you are a 
genius in planning clothes. Even that old brown 
wrapper of mine, done up with that blue, is really 
very pretty.” 

“ It is in commonplace things like garments, that 
I come out at my strongest,” laughed Ann ; then 
she ran upstairs and came back 1 with “a surprise” 
hanging over her arm. 

“ Davy, this pink veiling I had in my Sophomore 
year, it was trimmed with white lace and white rib- 
bon, and was the pride of my heart. I outgrew it 
two years ago; so I have altered it and trimmed it 
with black lace from an ancient mantilla of Aunt 
Fontaine’s, and I think it will be lovely for you, 
and no one that ever saw it as I had it would recog- 
nize it It will be just the affair to change with 
your white one for college parties and such other 
functions.” 

“ Recognize it ! ” cried Davy, her breath quite 
taken away by this gorgeous piece of raiment. 


i68 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ Ann Bradford, you are the dearest, kindest girl that 
ever lived ! ” and Davy cast the pink gown on Eliza- 
beth’s lap, and hugged Ann with all her might. 
Elizabeth could not resist the temptation to play the 
mentor. She spoke up sharply, “ Davy Tracy, there 
would be some pleasure in fixing things for you, if 
one did not feel sure that you would never clean off 
a spot, and that if gathers came loose, or there was 
a rip, or a slit, you would simply pin it up or let it 
alone.” 

But this was too joyful an occasion for Davy to 
enter into strife with Elizabeth, or even be dashed 
by her reflections: she seized the beautiful gown 
and rushed upstairs to try it on before the glass and 
then return to exhibit it 

“Ann,” said Elizabeth, as Davy disappeared, “ I 
don't see how you have so much patience with that 
child. How you have labored over her outfit, when 
you know that she will never darn a stocking nor 
mend a glove, nor brush a gown nor a hat ! ” 

“ I don’t know any such thing,” said Ann, merrily, 
seating herself on the edge of Davy’s trunk, and 
casting into its depths an admiring gaze. “ Davy 
may turn over a new leaf. Young folks of her age 
are often better tutored by their equals than by 
their elders. I am trusting much to the girls to 
prune and straighten up Miss Davy. There is 
much esprit de coips among those university girls. 
One may be as plainly and cheaply dressed as one 
is compelled to be so long as one is absolutely 
neat and in order ; but they will not stand seeing 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 169 

Davy or any other in class-rooms with buttonless 
boots and soiled dress, or out in the street with 
ragged gloves and dusty garments. They will tease 
and jibe and remonstrate. They will obey the 
Scripture to ‘ reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long 
suffering and doctrine,’ they will let her know that 
she may not disgrace their fraternity, so between pre- 
cept and example you’ll see Davy much improved.” 

Down came Davy, her cheeks as pink as her 
frock, and her eyes as black as Aunt Fontaine’s 
mantilla lace. She paraded about the room for the 
admiration of her sister and Ann. “ O Ann ! you 
have been so nice to me. Iam bound to be a credit 
to you. See if I am not.” 

“ See that you are,” said Elizabeth, dryly, “ be a 
credit in the ways you like, and the ways you do not 
like.” 

Davy made up a little mouth — she understood. 
Then she took off the pink dress, gave it an ad- 
miring look, and watched Ann dispose it in the 
trunk tray. Ann beamed : Davy’s delight was as 
keen to her as if it were her own. Ann had that 
deeply sympathetic nature which is an eminent 
mark of the Christian, who has occupied his oppor- 
tunities of soul-growth. Some of this capacity to 
joy in other’s joy, and weep with their tears, was 
hers by nature, but more of it was hers by grace, by 
earnest cultivation, as a desired childlike spirit. 
The natural outgo of sympathy may be, by careless- 
ness, restrained in its spring ; by bountiful employ- 
ment it may ever be fuller, clearer, more refreshing. 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


170 

As Ann packed Davy’s trunk giving her little sug- 
gestions about the affairs of the new life she was to 
enter, Elizabeth said, “ She’ll forget all that, Ann 
Bradford.” 

“You wait and see,” said Davy, with a defiant 
glance. 

“ I’ll trust you,” said Ann, “ I know you are going 
to do well, and be a shining light in the college. 
Now, Davy, I want you to keep a careful and 
orderly account of all your expenses, and let me 
have the account regularly, the first of every month. 
This year I will settle the bills for you myself, but 
I want to have you educate yourself up to such a 
business standard, that very soon I can put in bank 
the year’s expenses, and have you draw your checks, 
and run your own affairs. I do hate to see a woman 
who cannot draw up a check, or make out a bill, 
and keep a bank account, and look out for a margin. 
There is no sense in being brought up to such help- 
lessness as that.” 

“ Ann,” said Elizabeth, when Davy had gone out 
on some errands, “ I suppose you have an ideal of 
what kind of a woman you want Davy to be, and 
you are praying that she may reach it, and expect 
that she will.” 

“ Certainly, I have,” said Ann. 

“Well, Ann, you must be a person of great 
* faith.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Ann, “ I am not a person of great 
faith. I often think I must belong to poor, feeble, 
tottering Mr. Little Faith’s family ; but, such faith 


THE MANATEES OF THE UPWARD WAY. 17 i 

as it is, I would not give it up for a kingdom. My 
ancestor, Little Faith, you know, clung to his jewels. 
The fact is, Elizabeth, it is not the great faith, but 
the great God that does it. Faith, as a grain of 
mustard seed, can remove mountains, because it 
takes hold on the God that builded the mountains. 
It can say to the seas ‘thus far,’ because it is rest- 
ing on him who holds the seas in his hollowed 
hand. We need not moan and be discouraged be- 
cause of little faith, so long as it is fixed on a great 
God.” 

When Davy came back and sat on the verandah 
to rest and fan herself, for the day was hot, she said : 
“ I’ve been talking to Joseph Race about college. 
Joseph is in the polytechnic, you know. He says 
college life is worth living and full of pleasant 
things and pays ; only sometimes, he says, the pro- 
fessors and tutors crowd the lessons, so you are half 
dead. He says, that more than once, he just had 
to put in all Sunday afternoon on his lessons.” 

“ Don’t you ever do that, Davy. ‘ Render to 
Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the 
things that are God’s.’ For the lessons, the week ; 
for God, the Sabbath.” 

“ Well, I told Joseph that Sunday study did not 
look right to me, and he said it was according to 
the way I looked at it. He said the Lord com- 
manded people to work, and he studies to be fitted 
for work. When one works, one earns money, and 
he always expected to give part of his money to 
church causes : he said he reckoned he’d give to the 


172 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


Lord as much as all the time he studied Sunday 
was worth.” 

Ann could not refrain from smiling. This spirit 
of barter with God is so frequent in youth. Ann 
had had it herself in one way and another. “ Davy,” 
she said, “ do you remember, when God sent Saul 
to destroy Amalek and not leave a living creature 
behind, and Saul said to Samuel that he had brought 
back the best of all the cattle to offer as sacrifices to 
God, Samuel replied, that ‘ to obey was better than 
sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams.’ 
God does not stoop to trade with man ; he gives his 
law, and he demands obedience. All the beasts of 
the forest are his, and the cattle upon a thousand 
hills ; if we bring him offerings, they must be clean 
offerings, the joyful gifts of a loving and grateful 
heart, not barter, so much for so much. ‘ There 
thou hast that is thine,’ did not do very well ; the 
wrath of the Lord leaped forth against that serv- 
ant.” 

“ I suppose that is so,” said Davy, “ I know it is. 
Still the Lord wants good work from us.” 

“ Oh, yes : the best that we honestly can, but not 
more than we can. God is not an unreasonable 
taskmaster. The spirit of Joab was right when he 
said, ‘ Be of good courage, and let us play the man 
for our people, and for the cities of our God ; and 
the Lord do that which seemeth him good.’ C’list’an 
told me the other day that she stood by the text, 
‘ Do your best, and leave the rest.’ Now there is 
no such text, yet all the same, it is the spirit of 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 173 

much of Scripture. The Lord wants us to desire 
to work well and to make all suitable efforts, but 
we may be over ambitious, and work in a furor 
that is to our spiritual and physical disadvantage. 
A young man of my friends in the university, in the 
class ahead of me, was resolved to make the finest 
record that ever had been made. He studied furi- 
ously, to the ruin of his health, for he was not of a 
strong constitution ; he took the highest marks ever 
taken, had the valedictory, was cheered to the echo 
when he took his diploma; was carried back to his 
boarding-place unconscious ; lay ill for weeks nursed 
by his widowed mother, who was heartbroken at 
his condition ; and has never yet been able to do 
anything that he had marked out for himself. If 
he ever recovers it will be after lost years.” 

“ Aunt Fontaine said a. cousin of hers studied so 
hard, day and night, that he lost the sight of one 
eye, and nearly that of the other,” said Elizabeth, 
“ and after that he loathed the sight of a book, and 
went to farming.” 

“ 1 One curses the sun, when one is grilled by the 
sun,’ is an old Spanish proverb,” said Ann. “ Our 
judgment should’ be our guide in study ; I think if 
students reserve to themselves the rest of the Sab- 
bath, give their bodies due care in exercise daily, 
plenty of sleep, proper diet, then nearly any one 
will be able, unharmed, to study all that is needful, 
to a proper scholastic record. Some learn easily, 
are very bright and can make brilliant acquirements. 
Others are simply honest plodders, they can never 


*74 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


make the display of genius, never dazzle any one ; 
but they can acquire all that is needed for doing 
good honest work in the world. The Lord ‘ expects 
every man to do his duty,’ as was said of England.” 

Davy was gone : she departed under escort of 
Dorothy Camp. Davy was missed, so was Dorothy. 
Ann deeply enjoyed Dorothy’s visits to Dillburg ; 
they brought her in touch again with that larger, 
richer world, from which she was severed. With 
Dorothy she renewed the themes of interest opened 
in college days ; they talked of the new books, the 
articles of interest in the magazines ; new enter- 
prises and new discoveries, the leading thoughts of 
the hour. Dorothy led and Ann followed, as she 
liked best to do. Ann and Dorothy had spent 
hours driving about the country, rambling in the 
woods. Dorothy planned literary work and Ann 
listened in rapt enjoyment, glad if she could add to 
Dorothy’s store of incident, or quaint phrase, or 
pathetic fact. 

Now Dorothy was gone ; the horse and surrey 
were gone also. Maggie was cleaning Davy’s room 
— to be so long deserted. 

“ We must fill our lives up, as full as we can, 
Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ and then we shall not be 
lonely. You will make more progress then ever. 
Dorothy is going to the foreign bookstore to select 
you several good things in French books. She 
thinks you are getting on surprisingly. She will 
send us Souvestre’s Housetop Philosopher, you’ll enjoy 
that.” 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 175 

Ann broke off her remarks and dashed out of 
doors. The festive goat of neighbor Stone had 
leaped the fence and was browsing on Ann’s best 
monthly rosebushes ; a bevy of little pigs were 
grunting their content, as they rooted in the lawn, 
and Mr. Black, oblivious of these, was busy driving 
the neighbors’ chickens from the bed where he had 
sown late beet and turnip seeds for winter greens. 
Ann banished the goat, and Mr. Black came to her 
rescue in dealing with the pigs. 

“ There’s no use in expecting Mrs. Stone to do 
what is fair by us, Mr. Black,” said Ann. “You’ll 
have to buy high posts and barbed wire, and build 
our fence higher, and as for those pigs, they’ve 
nosed their way under the fence, and I think you’ll 
have to get stone and line it. It will cost time 
and money, but there is no other way. How I hate 
living in a stock yard ! ” 

Ann went into the house, panting from her run 
after her neighbors’ wild beasts. Elizabeth’s temper 
was up in arms. 

“ It is a perfect shame ! ” ^she cried, “ those 
Stone and Dibbs people are animals, just animals.'' 

“ That’s true, Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ Class Mam- 
malia : branch A, placentalia : order, primates. But 
in stating our neighbors to be animals, Elizabeth, 
allow me to call your attention to the fact that 
you are not enunciating any new or abstruse 
truth.” 

“ O Ann ! ” cried Elizabeth, laughing in spite 
of her indignation, “ can’t you get angry ? ” 


lj6 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

“ Indeed I can. I warn you I am furious at this 
present instant.” 

“ Then why don’t you say something ? Why 
don’t you call those horrid, disobliging people names? 
You have begged them to keep their stock up, or to 
make their share of the fences better, and they 
won’t. They know how much pains you take to 
keep this place in handsome order. 

“They think it’s all nonsense,” cried Elizabeth. 
“ Mrs. Stone says, it is real extravagant not to 
graze the horse in the front yard; that Aunt Fon- 
taine always did, and Mr. Dibbs says that a nice 
bunch of red calves feeding in the lawn is handsomer 
than any shrubs or flowers. 

“ They’re beasts,” continued Elizabeth, “ regular 
brute beasts ; after all the example you’ve set them, 
they are as mean as they were a year ago ! ” 

“ As mean ! ” cried Ann, with energy, “ they’re 
twice as mean as they were last year ! ” 

“ So they are. I’d go tell them what I thought of 
them. I’d sue them for trespass. They’re breaking 
the laws.” 

“ You’re in error there, Elizabeth, this is a village, 
and there is no charter law about keeping stock up. 
The only law is of decency, and neighborly cour- 
tesy, and that they don’t recognize.” 

“Well, why don’t you anathematize them, at 
least ? ” 

“ I might, Elizabeth, but I remember that a cer- 
tain heathen prayed, ‘ O God, show compassion to 
the wicked ! the virtuous have already been blessed 


THE MANNERS OF THE UPWARD WAY. 177 

by thee, in being virtuous. Don’t let us be 
worse than heathen, Elizabeth,” and the two burst 
into a hearty laugh. C’list’an broke into the talk. 

“ You’d need do a power of prayin’, Miss Ann, to 
fetch that Jim Dibbs into anything of a likely posi- 
tion. I never did see such a do-less man. He’s too 
lazy to live, and seems to kinder find it too much 
trouble to die. Why, that Jim Dibbs, ’pears like 
he always has suspicioned that the world had some- 
thing lying round loose for him somewhere, and he’s 
always been kind of strollin’ round, in a lazy-like 
way, to find it ; but he ain’t never come up with it, 
yet, Jim Dibbs ain’t, and it’s not my opinion that he 
ever will.” 

“ Hear that now, Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ and let 
us be content, glad, that we don’t live on Jim Dibbs’ 
side of the fence, if we are obliged to wrestle with 
his pigs and chickens. There is nothing that keeps 
one so uneasy as feeling angry at neighbors ; when 
we can’t be happy in their well-behaving, let us be 
happy forgiving their ill-behaving.” 

12 


CHAPTER X. 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 

“ A sweet attractive kind of grace, 

A full assurance given by lookes, 

Continual comfort in a face, 

The lineaments of Gospell bookes.” 

Arthur and Davy had had their little tiffs and 
miffs ; Davy had “ put on airs,” Arthur thought : 
she had often been selfish about helping Arthur 
with his lessons; Arthur had loved to tease Davy 
and play little provoking tricks upon her. Now 
that Davy was gone, Arthur was lonely and incon- 
solable. 

C’list’an found him on a Saturday morning, sit- 
ting forlorn on a low tree-limb, swinging his feet, and 
looking miserable. 

“ Why don’t you do something ? ” asked CTist’an. 
“ What do you sit round that way for ? I like folks 
that git up an’ git.” 

“ I can’t do what I want to do,” said Arthur. 

“Why, then, don’t you want to do something else, 
that you can do ? ” 

“ Nothing is worth doing now Davy’s gone,” said 
Arthur. 

178 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 179 

“ What is it you want to do ? ” asked C’list’an, 
sympathizingly. 

“ Why, I want to fix up the carriage room, in the 
barn, to have for a club room for boys. Davy’d 
known just how to do it. I wanted Mr. Black to 
help me, and he won’t.” 

“ He can’t, you mean,” said C’list’an. “ Now he 
gives three hours a day ’cross the street, he can’t do 
so much for you. ’Tisn’t well, Arthur, to bear false 
witness against your neighbors, like that. Mr. 
Black’s particular accommodating. Stir round 
and do things for yourself. ’Pears to me, if you 
want suthin’ out o’ this world, the way is to stir 
round an’ get it ; that’s the way it ’pears to me. If 
you mope, you’ll soon be as foolish an’ feckless as 
Mr. Dibbs.” 

However, in her secret heart C’list’an felt very 
sorry for Arthur, and remarked to Ann, when she 
went into the house, that “that poor little Arthur 
was moping and maunderin’ round, for all the world 
as if he had lost all his friends.” 

Ann went out to investigate this psychological 
curiosity. “ Here, laddie, I believe I’m neglecting 
you. Let me be your comrade, now Davy’s gone. 
What is it you want to do ? ” 

“ Don’t you think,” said Arthur, “that boys have 
a right to have clubs as well as girls ? You’ve been 
and set up clubs for girls and clubs for grown ladies, 
and a missionary club, and not one thing for boys. 
That shows to me that you don’t truly care for boys, 
as much as you say you do.” There was a triumph- 


180 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

ant ring in Arthur’s voice ; he was decidedly cross, 
and he felt that he had scored a good point against 
Ann. 

Ann recognized her errors, and felt penitent. 
She had neglected that ubiquitous and very impor- 
tant element in social life — the boy. However, cus- 
tom bringing reinforcements to her failing spirit, 
she took the road of common sense. “ That was a 
bad piece of negligence, Arthur, and we must revise 
our methods at once. Let us constitute boys’ clubs 
to-day. I’ll work for you like a Trojan, until I’ve 
made up for past carelessness.” 

“ How did Trojans work ? ” demanded Arthur. 

“ Pretty hard, I think, from the proverb I just 
quoted. The general impression seems to be that 
they bestirred themselves thoroughly; in fact, as 
they were always building cities, or instituting con- 
tests, or wrestling with great stones, or fighting 
battles, I think they were very energetic folk, in- 
deed. What did you think of in the line of a club, 
Arthur ? ” 

“Well, I thought the surrey-room in the barn 
could be cleared out, and benches made, and the 
walls trimmed up with pictures or things the boys 
'brought, and have six boys in the club, and no 
more to come in, unless we voted them in, unani- 
mous.” 

“ That’s a good plan, only I’d start with seven.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ So you could not be evenly divided or tied on 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD . 181 

a vote. Still, as a president does not vote, except 
on a tie, you might get on with six.” 

“ We’ll have seven ; but how’ll we get a president ? 
Every boy will vote for himself, so there’ll be one 
vote apiece,” said Arthur. 

Ann laughed : “ I don’t think they’d do that. Some 
of them might be sharp enough to see that it was 
better to be the power behind the throne than the 
throne. The palace-master is sometimes more pow- 
erful than the king. Why not cast lots for a presi- 
dent, one black bean to six white ones ? Or why 
not take it in rotation, a month at a time, beginning 
with the name that has the highest letter in the 
alphabet, A, or B, or C ? Whatever you do, don’t 
begin with a squabble for the presidency. Don’t 
you think there’s a text or two that comes in well 
there ? ‘ Sit not down in the highest room ’ (or 

place). ‘ Go and sit down in the lowest room.’ 
‘For he that exalteth himself shall be abased, and 
he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.’ ‘ Before 
honor is humility.’ The Bible is a most excellent 
business guide, Arthur. And what is to be the 
object of this club, Arthur? What will you do ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Arthur, “ that’s just it. I 
wanted Davy for that. Davy was so smart to think 
up things. But as Davy isn’t here, you may do as 
well ; perhaps ,’ he added, condescendingly. 

“I’ll try ever so hard to fill her place,” said Ann. 
“ Suppose you have a debating club, to make speeches 
and argue questions : or suppose you have a band 
club, to practise music, and be a village concert 


i 82 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


band. You could use your new violin ” — for Arthur 
had that desire of his heart, a violin. For three 
months that summer he had worked faithfully with 
the grocer, running errands, driving cart, sweeping 
the shop, tying up parcels, measuring potatoes, and 
Ann had sent his money to a former college class- 
mate, junior partner in a music store in the city, and 
Arthur at last owned a violin. 

“ If,” continued Ann, “ you don’t care for either 
of these, you might have a ‘ Do Good Club,’ to look 
after boys, and see what good you could do, and 
what evil prevent ; or you might mix up the objects, 
having both music and debates, and requiring that 
every club member should do a helpful act for some 
one every day ; home folks first.” 

“ I could see what the boys liked best,” said 
Arthur. 

“ Suppose that you go and ask your two best 
friends to come and spend the day with you, and 
help you arrange the room, and plan the club, 
and select the other boys ? While you are gone, 
I’ll see if I can find something up in the attic to be- 
gin the decorations of your room. I think I have 
seen there a small pair of deer’s horns, a couple of 
flags, a map and a big advertisement picture or two 
of fruit, chickens, and prize pigs. Aunt Fontaine 
never threw anything away, and you see we reap 
the benefit of her saving.” 

■ “There’s one thing sure,” said Arthur, “ I won’t 
have Hall Chase. I’m as mad as mad at him ! He 
rubbed out all my sums, when I had done ’em nice 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 183 

on my slate, and I had to do ’em over, and he drew 
with chalk a skull and cross-bones on the back of 
my jacket, and made the boys laugh before I knew 
it, and he called me grocer’s kiddy.” 

“ I’m surprised he should act that way ! What 
had you done to him ? ” 

“ Not one thing, only he spelled so funny in class, 
I laughed right out, twice. I couldn’t help it. He’s 
smart at ’rithmetic, but spelling he’s nowhere ; spells 
core of an apple koar , and league leeage /” 

“ I suppose your laughter hurt him, as much as 
his tricks hurt you.” 

“ He said he was sorry about the sums, but that 
didn’t make me friends ; for it didn’t put the sums 
back,” remarked Arthur. 

“ But the Bible says, if people sin against us 
and repent, we must forgive them, not once, but 
seven times, not seven times, but seventy times 
seven. We must forgive as we would be forgiven. 
Have you said the Lord’s Prayer since you wouldn’t 
forgive Hall ? ” 

“ O Cousin Ann ! you do tackle a fellow so with 
the Bible ! ” 

“ So ? Well, I’ll tackle you with Shakespeare, if 
you prefer it. 

“ * How should you be, 

If he who is the top of judgment, should 
But judge you as you are ? O, think of that ! ’ 

I think one good of your club would be to make you 
boys more friendly, give you common interests, and 


184 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

check quarrels. Suppose you get up this club you 
are planning, and meet as often as you please, and 
I’ll have another club of ten boys, to meet every 
Thursday evening, or say Saturday or Friday even- J 
ing when there are no home lessons on hand. That 
club can be as you boys vote, a Temperance Club, 
or a Missionary Club, or a Reading of Travels 
Club, something to help you along in some line 
you’ll select. We’ll call that ‘The Round Table 
Club,’ because the table in the back parlor is round, 
and because of King Arthur’s Round Table. I will 
furnish some plain refreshments each time, as nuts 
and apples, or lemonade and seed cakes ; or some- 
thing like that.” 

“ Good for you, you know that boys can’t get on 
without eating.” 

“Well, be off and ask two boys for the day.” 

“ Say — I’m a mind to ask Hall Chase, for one of 
’em. He and I were the tip-toppest friends till we 
took to fighting.” 

Ann laughed and nodded. Then as Arthur 
dashed off to find his boys, and expound clubs to 
them. Ann went to the attic to find club-room trim- 
mings, and then went with her arms full to exhibit 
them to Elizabeth, and tell her the tale of clubs. 

“I’ll work them some badges,” said Elizabeth, 
“when they decide on the names and objects of 
their clubs. They can choose what color of ribbon 
I shall work them on.” 

Ann went to meet Arthur and his friends, smiling 
to herself as she thought how strenuously Elizabeth 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 185 

had objected to Arthur’s presence in the family, and 
how she had vowed she would never look at him if 
he came. 

The boys had not yet arrived, and Ann, with her 
lap full of trophies, sat down on an overturned box 
in the empty surrey-room, to wait their appearance. 
She was happy, thinking how much more cheery 
and pleasant Elizabeth was. Elizabeth’s face was 
brighter, her health better, she was not spiteful and 
taunting now, but interested and generous. How 
well Davy was doing with her tutor ! What an easy 
boy Arthur was to manage ! How comfortable was 
this home ! How happy she herself was. “ Surely 
the lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places. I 
have a goodly heritage,” thought Ann. Her soul 
was as a watered garden. She leaned her head 
back against the wall, and sang softly as she 
waited : — 

“ Look up, for glad and golden hours 
Come swiftly on the wing ; 

Come, rest beside the weary road 
And hear the angels sing.” 

Soon Arthur and his friends bounded in, their 
hands full, and Ann’s contributions being duly ad- 
mired, she left them. 

She soon inferred from the sounds in the surrey- 
room that there was a state of high good fellowship 
among the boys, and that the plan of clubs was re- 
ceived with enthusiasm. As Mr. and Mrs. Gilles- 
pie knew the village boys and their parents so much 


i86 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


better than she did, Ann concluded to go and ask 
them what ten lads should be included in her club, 
and what subject should be made the centre of in- 
terest. 

Mrs. Gillespie was sitting with her sewing in the 
little study, and Mr. Gillespie had turned his back 
upon his writing-table. 

“ I believe you find us sailing in the doldrums,” 
said the pastor. 

“ So I thought,” said Ann, “but I did not like to 
be the first to speak of it.” 

“ Dillburg has its advantages and excellencies,” 
said Mrs. Gillespie, “ but in many respects it is a 
desperately hard field. One cannot say to the 
majority of our church-people, ‘ Beloved, I wish 
above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in 
health, even as thy soul prospered!.’ The town is 
so healthy that nearly every one is physically thriv- 
ing, but the coldness and deadness of the church 
are enough to break one’s heart.” 

“ My church in the city was a very active work- 
ing church,” said Mr. Gillespie. “ We had many 
members of an unusually high spiritual life and 
many who had leisure, ability and willingness to 
devote themselves to the work of building up Zion. 
My congregation often reminded me of the 
Hebrews who labored on the wall of Jerusalem 
under Nehemiah, all busy, all furnished with both 
tools and weapons, and ready to use either. I con- 
sidered myself happy to expect to spend my life 
among such a people. The Lord planned other- 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 187 

wise for me. I found the city inimical to my 
health, my throat failed so that I could not be 
heard through that great auditorium. I was thank- 
ful to find a vineyard corner here to work in, but 
sometimes I sigh heavily after more fruitful vines. 
It is a hard matter when the people leave, without 
hesitation, all the work to the minister, while they, 
with one consent, go ‘ their ways, the one to his 
farm, the other to his merchandise. ’ A pastor is 
like Moses in the conflict with Amalek ; he needs 
to have his hands stayed up by the love, sympathy, 
labor, prayers of his people, if the battle with the 
world, the flesh and the devil is to go well for the 
host of God.” 

“ Yes,” said Ann, “we need organization for 
Christian work.” 

“ Dear Miss Bradford ! ” cried Mrs. Gillespie, 
“there is no organization for work here, the people 
scarcely know what it means ; they seem to be all 
at loose ends, except for our little Missionary So- 
ciety, which has revived, thanks to the Missionary 
Reading Club ; but just think, in that we have only 
four, including our two selves, that will lead in 
prayer ! When we speak of organizing for Chris- 
tian work every one is ‘ too busy,’ or ‘ don’t know 
how,’ or, ‘ don’t see the need,’ or ‘ will leave that to 
some one else.’ If we call a meeting to try and in- 
augurate new work for church, or Sunday-school, 
or missions, who come ? Only the faithful half 
dozen ! ” 

“ Let us be thankful for them. Four more than a 


1 88 TO WARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

half-dozen would have saved Sodom,” said Mr. 
Gillespie. 

“ Last week,” said Ann, “ I had a letter from Mrs. 
Baron, Junior, such a dear lovely creature as she is ! 
She told me all about a Parochial Aid Society 
that they have in their church, and how useful and 
delightful it is. In fact, I think her letter, as we 
are not regular correspondents, was especially 
directed to inquiring if we had such a society 
here, and if not, whether we should not establish 
one.” 

“ It will be hard work in Dillburg,” sighed Mrs. 
Gillespie, “ but at least tell us about it.” 

“ It is a Society for the Women of the Church,” 
said Ann ; “ and once it is organized in a church, 
every woman in the church is supposed to belong to 
it, in virtue of her church membership. Of course 
it is evident that many of the members will be dead 
heads, but that number lessens each year, as they 
learn to work, and something is found for each one 
to do. The society has three officers : president, 
vice-president, secretary and treasurer. It is divid- 
ed into four committees ; Visiting and Strangers’ 
Committees ; Deacons’ Aid Committee ; Pastor’s Aid 
Committee, -Church Improvement Committee. This 
last Committee is the largest in numbers, the Pas- 
tor’s Aid is the smallest. Each Committee has a 
Chairman or presiding officer, and these four offi- 
cers, together with the three officers of the whole 
society — for the secretary and treasurer are one — 
form the Executive of the whole. The Parochial 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 189 

Aid as a whole has a meeting one afternoon in a 
month, to discuss work that has been done, or should 
be ; the various committees meet when they are noti- 
fied by their officer, never less than once a month. 
The day before the general meeting there is an ex- 
ecutive meeting. The officers must be popular, ex- 
perienced, diligent women ; the Visiting Committee 
calls on all strangers, speaks to and welcomes all 
strangers who appear in church. Whenever any 
one in this congregation hears of a stranger in the 
church bounds, the Visiting Committee must be 
informed. The Deacons’ Aid directs its work to 
the poor and sick; the Pastor’s Aid is chosen of 
experienced Christians, who try to do especially 
spiritual work ; make and keep peace in the church, 
and so on. Their work is private mostly, not pub- 
licly discussed ; and they especially try to check 
strifes and gossip. The Church Improvement 
Committee sees to keeping the Church in nice order, 
tries to raise money for repairs, attends to the 
proper beautifying of the house of God. 

“ Such a committee here, ’’groaned Mrs. Gillespie, 
“ might stop that leak in the church roof.” 

“ A Pastor’s Aid Committee,” sighed Mr. Gillespie, 
“ might put a check on Sue Stryker’s venomous 
tongue, which does so much mischief ; it might also 
calm the strife between the Rands and the Blakes ! ” 

“ A pity it would not,” said Mrs. Gillespie, “ for 
you have tried your best to heal that breach, and 
cannot. They consider that you came here after it 
began, and don’t realize its true inwardness; ‘but 


190 


TO WA RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 


where envying and strife are, there is confusion 
and every evil work.’ ” 

“I like that Parochial Aid plan, immensely,” said 
Mr. Gillespie. “ Will you let me have Mrs. Baron’s 
letter to study it up ? I will then talk with Mrs. 
Spencer, Mrs. Gates, Mrs. Percy, and the church 
officers, and we’ll go to work to inaugurate this 
scheme. I feel inclined to say I’ll make it my last 
ditch, but I’ll say better, ‘ If the Lord will, we shall 
live, and do this and that.’ ” 

Ann had forgotten all about the boys’ club. She 
recalled it now, but concluded enough had been 
designed for the present, and there would be time 
enough to plan further for the club, when she had 
heard from the boys. Also a storm was rising and 
she must hasten home. The morning had been 
hot, now black clouds massed themselves, and the 
rumble of thunder, coming nearer and nearer, with 
lightning increasing in vivid splendor, showed a 
heavy tempest about to break. Arrived at home, 
and finding C’list’an had closed the windows prop- 
erly, Ann stood on the verandah to watch the mag- 
nificence of the gathering storm. The window of 
Elizabeth’s room, opening on the verandah, was still 
ajar, on account of the heat. Elizabeth called, 
“ Ann ! do come in ! Why do you stand there ? 
This is going to be terrible ! ” Elizabeth was pale 
and evidently alarmed. Ann pushed the window 
wider open, and stood nearer it and Elizabeth, re- 
peating : “ He rode upon a cherub, and did fly : yea, 
he did fly upon the wings of the wind. He made 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD . 19 1 

darkness his secret place ; his pavilion round about 
him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies. 
At the brightness that was before him, his thick 
clouds passed, hailstones and coals of fire. The 
Lord also thundered in the heavens, and the Highest 
gave his voice.” 

“ Aren’t you afraid ? ” said Elizabeth. “ I’m so 
afraid of storms.” 

“ I am not,” said Ann. “ That great fear in 
storms, Elizabeth, is often constitutional and hered- 
itary; happily, I am very strong, and I had very 
strong parents ; the fear is also often the outcome 
of a delicate nervous organism such as yours. 
Sometimes, it is the product of injudicious training 
of a child, or the cultivation of a whim. Whatever 
its source, it is uncomfortable, and if it can be gotten 
rid of, it is advisable to away with it.” 

“ I don’t see how one can,” said Elizabeth. 

“ First and foremost, see that God is in the storm : 
‘ He holds the winds in his hands, he utters his voice 
in the thunder.’ ” 

“ But, Ann, that is only poetry ; there are natural 
manifestations, natural causes and effects.” 

“I know it,” said Ann, “yet everywhere God 
stands back of Nature ; his power presents the 
limits, his voice says, ‘ thus far.’ From God all 
this Nature-fabric came, we can see him in and 
over all.” 

“ But still, Ann, storms do terrible work, light- 
ning and wind do kill people, Christian people, 
too.” 


192 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“I know it,” said Ann, “and rain wets us to the 
skin, and we take cold, so it is well to shelter if we 
can. I should not stand out in the rain, nor take a po- 
sition especially exposed to lightning, nor go abroad 
needlessly when bricks and branches are flying 
about ; the Lord expects common sense of us. But 
storms must come, Elizabeth, they have their use- 
ful essence, as well as being natural results of unpre- 
ventable causes. What I mean is, given the shelter, 
known the fact that no human effort can prevent the 
tempest, and assured that a God who loves and cares 
for me is in and over all, there is no need for fear 
or excitement on my part. Suppose even that I 
am killed in a storm. Why so greatly fear death ? 
I must die sometime. I am sure that in that world 
to come are all the elements of beauty and happi- 
ness that are here, and very many beside, greater 
than our minds can now compass. If I am killed by 
a storm, would it not be a death very like the transla- 
tion of Enoch, or the going up to heaven in a whirl- 
wind accompanied by horses and chariots of fire as 
was given to Elijah ? Why, if we are Christians, 
need we so cling to life and fear death ? As long as 
God bids us to live, as long as he gives us work to do 
for him, as long as we can benefit others, we should 
be glad to live ; when he says ‘ Come,’ we should 
be glad to go. The child enjoys its play at a neigh- 
bor’s with its little friends, but it hears a voice at 
the gate calling, ‘ Come, darling/ it sees its father’s 
open arms and hears his voice, knows his loving 
smile ; the playmates and friends are abandoned ; 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 193 

with a laugh and a joyish rush of feet it is going to 
love and home ! ” 

“ O Ann,” cried Elizabeth, “ do teach me and 
help me to be less afraid of death ! I have always 
felt that I could not live to be old, could not live 
very long, and I am so afraid of dying.” 

“ Dear child, let me say in the first place that 
there is no evident reason why you should expect to 
die sooner or younger than other people. In the 
midst of life we are all surrounded with death. 
Persons in your condition are so well cared for, and 
so apart from accident or contagion, that they are 
often long-lived. Your health mattes a very marked 
improvement, and I expect to see you out of your 
chair some day. Now that I have answered that 
part of what you have said, let me turn to the other. 
Why are you afraid of dying ? Do you not rest on 
the promise of Christ, that he will not cast out any 
who come unto him, but will save them with an 
eternal salvation ? ” 

“Yes, Ann, but that world to come seems so far 
away, and I don’t know anything much about it, 
and I don’t feel as if I knew anybody there very 
well. I don’t know much of my parents, I hardly 
remember them, and Aunt Fontaine was real kind, 
but so shut up from other people in her ways that I 
don’t lo?ig after her.” 

“ Elizabeth, when you were born into this world 
you came to a place and people all new to you, yet 
entire, tender love at once enfolded, you ; your com- 
fort was studied, your happiness secured. Have 

13 


194 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


you not felt at home and among kin in this world ? 
Wordsworth says : 

; Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; 

The soul that rises in us, our life’s star, 

Hath had elsewhere its setting 
And cometh from afar.’ 

“ Now, why cannot this be doubly true of death ? 
Why will not dying be the setting here, the rising 
there, of the star of life-immortal ? We, being born 
into that nobler life, shall find a blissful home, lov- 
ing welcome, and the faces that greet us there will 
be soon as well known and as dear as those that 
met the opening of our eyes when we came to earth. 
Perhaps they will be those very ones glorified and 
dowered with immortality. Elizabeth, do you fear 
dying, lest dying itself may be painful ? I do not 
believe that. The soul did not come into the body 
with a wrench or a cataclysm, why should it go out 
with one ? Why should it not part as gently as it 
came ? I do not leave a house with a bounce and 
a bang, and a general tearing up of affairs ; why 
should my soul be less decorous in its going ? The 
reports of many on the very verge of life, half 
across the border-lands of death, tell us ‘ if this be 
dying it is bliss to die.’ How many die in sleep, 
the going out of spirit not stirring the lightest slum- 
ber, nor ruffling a feature. How almost invariable 
is that restful, contented look on dead faces. Even 
those who die by sudden accidents may not suffer. 
Death may be too instantaneous for even the in- 
jured body to feel a pang. Livingstone in the clutch 


LITTLE ERRANDS DONE FOR GOD. 195 

of a Hon, within a second of death, felt neither 
fright nor pain, simply as if drifting into deep sleep. 
Drowning is universally agreed to be painless, so no 
doubt is suffocation, as by smoke or gases, creeping 
on gently. A disease or an injury may be painful 
to our physical nerves, but I do not believe that 
dying is painful. In fact, Elizabeth, death is one 
of the inevitable things, we know not when or how 
it will come, we do know that there is a promise of 
bliss beyond; that our Lord has said, ‘/ will never 
leave thee nor forsake thee,’ that many ‘ who, 
through fear of death, were all their life-time sub- 
ject to bondage/ have, when death came, been 
peaceful or blissful. Therefore, cease, my child, to 
fear that which really is not fearful. We grope 
dimly here after a personal Christ, we shall know 
him there.” 

The storm had roared and flamed and wheeled 
away as Ann spoke, and Elizabeth, stretched on 
her chair, listened intent. A brief deluge of rain 
had fallen, water dashed from the eaves, and along 
the streets ran turbid streams ; the air felt clean 
and washed, the turf renewed its beauty under the 
cleansing waters. Maggie vigorously rung the “ five- 
minute bell ” at the back-door, and three jolly 
vociferous boys raced from the barn to the back- 
porch, and began to wash and brush for dinner. 
Ann had provided for Arthur and his friends a little 
toilette apparatus, on the rear verandah, and pres- 
ently three clean and subdued little lads marched 
into the dining-room. “ Mutton and tomato-sauce 


ig6 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

and oyster patties, whoop ! ” whispered Arthur to 
one friend, and then impartially confided to the 
other, “Apple dumplings for dessert, saw Maggie 
makin’ em, they're prime.” 

Elizabeth looked unusually cheery, and talked 
clubs to the boys very pleasantly. “ I say, ’Liz- 
beth,” said Arthur, “ if you could get about on 
your legs, you know, you'd be as much fun as Davy, 
maybe more ; ’cause you’re prettier’n Davy, don’t 
you know ? Least I think so ; I like fair people 
like you. ” 

When C’list’an had made Elizabeth ready for her 
afternoon nap, and Ann was about to leave her, 
Elizabeth said : “ You have done me so much good 
to-day, Ann, I wish you could do me more, by tell- 
ing me how to live at peace. I feel always in a state 
of strife with myself over something.” 

“ Elizabeth dear, the converse of self-conflict is 
self-surrender. The secret of being at peace with 
circumstances is — laying down our arms. God ar- 
ranges our lives, and leads us as and where he will. 
Better run along cheerily than try to get loose from 
his guidance. Self-surrender, then no self-con- 
flict.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE TOOLS NEAR AT HAND. 

“ Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 

As the swift seasons roll, 

Leave thy low-vaulted past, 

Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 

Shut thee from heaven, with a dome more vast ; 

Till thou at length art free, 

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea.” 

“ There comes Sue Stryker in at the gate/’ said 
Elizabeth. There was no gratulation in her tone : 
Elizabeth had outgrown any yearning for the acrid 
conversation of Sue Stryker. Elizabeth’s chair 
back was a few inches more elevated than it had 
been the year before ; she was embroidering silk 
roses on a piece of linen ; Ann, near by, was busy 
with the more prosaic occupation of darning her 
own and Arthur’s stockings. C’list’an went to the 
door and ushered in Sue. 

“ Every one here owes me a visit,” cried Sue, in 
high tones; “of course I don’t expect anything of 
Elizabeth, and I don’t seem to be on your calling 
list, Miss Bradford.” 

“ I supposed you always came to call on Eliza- 

197 


198 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

beth,” said Ann, “and also I am always very 
busy.” 

“ Oh, yes, I suppose so, any one would be, who 
undertook to run a town, even such a little town as 
Dillburg. Mrs. Stokes said the other day, because 
we were not city or college people here, you thought 
all we needed was to sit round while you showed us 
what to do.” 

Ann darned on placidly, without reply, but the 
motion of Elizabeth’s needle was something vicious. 

“ What do you hear from Davy? I’m anxious to 
know if she keeps her frock as ragged as her gloves, 
now she’s out of C’list’an’s reach. Davy was bad 
enough about sewing always ; her Aunt Fontaine 
used almost to shed tears over her abhorrence of a 
needle, and now you’re going to make a literary 
woman of her, what will she be ? Every one 
knows that literary women can’t take time to mend 
their clothes or do their hair, but are always down 
at the heel,” continued Sue, ignoring Ann’s shining 
braids and the pile of mended stockings on her 
lap. Perhaps she did not consider Ann a literary 
woman. 

“That idea,” said Ann, calmly, “is all behind 
the age. The literary woman of to-day is a model 
of neatness and accuracy. Thoroughness in one 
direction has assured thoroughness all along the 
line. Education has balanced her mind, and refined 
her taste. If I went to a town where there were 
two literary women, I’d at once bank on them as 
among the most elegant and accurate housekeepers 


THE TOOLS NEAR A T HAND. 


i 99 


in the place. The close air, dust, and grease spots 
would not be found in their homes. Why should 
they ? Chemistry and physiology have enlightened 
them. ,, 

“ Speaking of housekeeping,” said Sue, “ Mrs. 
Nimes made us laugh so the other day. She said, 
of course you couldn’t keep house, and it was a true 
providence that Maggie and C’list’an were willing 
to stay, or poor Elizabeth would starve.” 

Elizabeth looked on the verge of going into a 
passion, but Ann gave her a restraining glance. 

“ Miss Webster was in there, talking about this 
new Parochial Aid Society you’ve been getting up,” 
continued Sue. 

“ Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie got that up,” said Ann. 

“Oh, pooh, we know well enough where it came 
from, and you’re chairman of the Improvement 
Committee.” 

“Only until Mrs. Danvers is well enough to take 
it.” 

“ Mrs. Nimes said she thought you were putting 
yourself forward pretty well for a stranger ; here in 
fifteen months you’ve got up a Pilgrim’s Progress 
Class, a Boys’ Club, a Girls’ Study Class, a Mis- 
sionary Reading Club, and a Ladies’ Study Club, 
besides this Parochial Aid. Mrs. Nimes said she 
thought strangers in a town ought to lie low, and 
let the old settlers go ahead. I told her I didn’t 
quite think that. Then Miss Webster struck in, and 
said, let you alone, and you’d be sure to peter out 
before long. Miss Webster said you’d soon turn 


200 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


all the town into blue stockings, and she hoped the 
merchants would bring in a stock of blue hose and 
spectacles, to be ready for your pupils. Miss 
Webster is so funny , she don’t care a mite what she 
says. I suppose you don’t mind her talk, any- 
way ? ” 

“ No,” said Ann, folding up another pair of 
stockings, “ I do not know that I am disturbed by 
any kind of talk.” 

“ Oh, dear me ! Why not ? I couldn’t say that. 
I think if everybody was saying hateful things about 
me, I’d feel dreadfully. Why don’t you?” 

“ Why should I ? The Lord has promised : 
‘ Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence 
from the pride of man ; thou shalt keep them 
secretly in a pavilion from the strife of tongues.’ 
‘ He shall hide me in his pavilion, in the secret of 
his tabernacle shall he hide me.’ ” 

“ Isn’t there a tremendous lot of pride in appro- 
priating all such promises to yourself, as if one was 
so extra good ? ” asked Sue. 

“ Not the self, but the God is good,” said Ann. 
“ Do you think that it would be over-weening pride 
to believe your father would do for you what he 
had promised, even if he had promised much more 
than you deserved ? ” 

But here Elizabeth, no longer to be restrained by 
looks, broke forth, “ Sue Stryker, you know very 
well that all people are not saying ugly things about 
Ann. Mr. Gillespie was telling me the other day 
how popular she is, and how much good she does.” 


THE TOOLS NEAR A T HAND. 


201 


“ Oh, yes,” said Sue, “ Mrs. Dibbs was saying 
that Mr. Gillespie made a great pet of her, but there 
were other folks in the congregation, though he 
didn’t seem to know it.” 

“ I don’t believe she said it at all ! ” cried Eliza- 
beth, “ if she did, she had no business to talk so. 
Every one likes Ann, unless it is that Webster-Nimes- 
Stokes tribe, that almost no one goes with. I 
should think, Sue, you’d be ashamed of such com- 
pany.” 

“ Why, I can’t help their coming to our house, or 
stopping to talk to me as we pass each other’s gates. 
They like to hear the funny things I can say. Miss 
Ann, why are you so silent ? Elizabeth, does she 
never speak ? ” 

“ We converse , we do not gossip,” said Elizabeth, 
with aplomb. 

“ Pshaw, set yourself up for a model, do you, 
child ? Miss Ann, what harm is there in a little 
gossip, that hurts no one ? ” 

“ I think we cannot say gossip hurts no one, as 
at least it hurts the one who indulges in it. For 
my own part, I avoid it, as I am sure it would tend 
to make me untruthful. ” 

“ Why would it ? I don’t see that point,” said 
Sue. 

“ In my eagerness to have something to tell, or to 
tell it in a brilliant way, I should be in danger of 
overstating facts, or even of inventing things to tell, 
in so freely repeating my neighbor’s talk, I might 
add to their remarks, or give them in a tone and 


202 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


manner that did not belong to them originally. 
Perhaps, for instance, if the ladies you have quoted 
this morning were asked if they had said these 
things, they might put a different face upon them, 
or disclaim them entirely ; and yet, I think you 
would not deliberately invent and disseminate ugly 
remarks.” 

Sue blushed a little. “ Oh, you’re too particular t 
You are as strict as a Puritan. Why didn’t you go 
to the Hall the other night ? Miss Martin said 
she reckoned it was not good enough for you! 
Tell me, why didn’t you go ?” 

“ Because it suited neither my taste, nor my con- 
science.” 

“ Why, what was there so bad in it ? ” 

“ Nothing that I know of, but it simply did not 
seem right for me to go. I think it a good plan to 
avoid all over which conscience hesitates.” 

“ What’s your rule to decide about the right and 
wrong of amusements ? ” 

“ If it is something Christ cannot be conceived of 
as liking, I should not like it, for, as a Christian, it 
is my privilege to have the mind of Christ,” replied 
Ann. 

“ Why, Miss Ann ! Then you’d cut off everything 
but going to church, or sitting singing psalms, or 
reading the Bible !” 

“ I have not so learned Christ,” said Ann, smiling 
at Sue’s appalled look. “ I think if Christ reap- 
peared upon earth, we should find him full of human 
sympathies. Why not ? We know he went to feasts 


THE TOOLS NEAR AT HAND. 


203 


and weddings, and had that cheerfulness that drew 
little children ; and the Pharisees complained that 
he was too much in harmony with the multitude 
and common life. Don’t you suppose, as a child 
and lad, he played the games, and sang the songs, 
and heard the favorite tales of children and youth ? ” 

“Why, Miss Ann! The very idea! You can’t 
think of the Lord as — as playing lawn tennis, or 
ball, or croquet.” 

“ I cannot think of him as frowning on any inno- 
cent and healthful amusement, or genial, honest, 
social gathering. He is the brother of our flesh.” 

“ Well, I suppose you think all the folks that went 
to the show at the Hall are completely wrong.” 

“ Certainly not ; to a large degree I refrain from 
.thinking of the matter at all, except as it strictly 
concerns myself. The Scripture warns me ‘Judge 
not,’ and I feel myself too fallible to wish to get 
upon the judgment-seat. I think many who went 
the other night had no such feeling of question or 
hesitation about it, as I had. If it was contrary to 
my Christian consciousness, then I should not go ; 
my neighbor may have had no such consciousness. 
Paul says, ‘ Let every one be fully persuaded in his 
own mind.’ Perhaps my conscience is * weak,’ 
but even if that is so, I shall not make it stronger 
by disobeying it. It may be that I am tithing mint 
and anise and cummin ; even if I am, if I consider 
it my duty, I remember, Christ said, ‘ These ought 
ye to have done.’ Others may not consider such 
tithing imperative, and every one must answer for 


204 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

himself to God. ‘ To his own master he standeth 
or falleth.’ ” 

“ Dear me,” said Sue, “ what a lot of things you 
think of. I have heard and said more sense here, 
this afternoon than I have for a year ! But if I al- 
ways talked of such things as these, I should be so 
stupid ! / like wit .” 

“ So do I,” said Ann, “ I believe with Young that 
wit is precious as the vehicle of sense.” 

“ Oh, but if you bring sense in, it will be dull,” 
screamed Sue. 

“ If wit has no sense, it is nonsense. Now, non- 
sense may be amusing from its very absurdity, pro- 
vided it has in it nothing cruel nor malicious. The 
trouble is, that most people who devote themselves 
to being funny, and raising a laugh, become reck- 
less in what they say. The tongue, at best, is a 
poorly broken steed that is always on the verge of 
running away with its owner. 4 Wise,’ says the prov- 
erb, ‘ is he who bridles his tongue/ ” 

“ For my part,” said Sue, rising and hooking her 
fur cape, “ I prefer something new and bright, not 
common stuff.” 

“ In that case,” said Elizabeth, “ you had better 
cultivate some wisdom. ‘ Wisdom is rare, Lorenzo ; 
wit abounds.’ ” 

“ Oh, what humbug you talk here ! ” cried Sue. 

“ You won’t be offended at us, will you,” said 
Elizabeth, sarcastically, “ if we dare to have sense 
ourselves, so long as we do not require it of you ? ” 

“ I don’t see how I ever thought that girl’s com- 


THE TOOLS NEAR A T HAND. 


205 

pany agreeable,” said Elizabeth, when Sue had gone 
her way. 

“ As milestones serve to tell us how far on a 
journey we have come,” said Ann, “ so certain 
foolish or evil persons and things, which once we 
liked, grown wearisome or disgusting to us, serve to 
show us how far we have made mental and moral pro- 
gress. It is a pity Sue had not had a better training, 
she might have made a useful and pleasant woman ; 
naturally she has a quick mind. What a terrible 
thing it is for a child to have a mother lacking in 
religiousness, in real piety ! Religion can confer 
on us an instinctive good sense, even if we are 
by nature weak and silly-minded. No Christian 
mother could have allowed a girl to grow up by her 
side such a scandal-monger, so bitter of tongue, as 
poor Sue. I think, Elizabeth, that religion is the 
mother of good-sense. 

* Good-sense, which only is the gift of heaven, 

And, though no science, fairly worth the seven.’ ” 

“ That seemed a very clear and simple rule 
which you gave, for judging of the right and wrong 
of things, Ann ; just to consider what Christ would 
think of them, if he were here among us. I like 
that.” 

“ Some one has said that a personal relation to a 
personal being comprises all that is necessary for 
conduct and character. That meets every possi- 
bility of the soul, Christ the man, Christ the human, 
Christ the brother, Christ the friend, Christ the 


2 06 TO WA RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

daily example. He covers all the needs of our 
journey toward the Glory Gate.” 

“ Miss Bradford,” said Maggie, coming in, “ here’s 
a telegraph I got this minute, telling me my Cousin 
Emma can’t live beyond a day or so, and wants to 
see me at the last. Poor Emma! we’ve been like 
sisters.” 

“ You must go at once,” said Ann. “ Pack your 
valise, and go for a week if you like.” She looked 
at the clock. “ It is too late for the through train. 
If you go by the cars now, you will have so many 
delays, you’ll be all night on the road. Ask Mr. 
Black to get a horse and cutter and take you, and 
you can reach there by nine to-night. C’list’an will 
get you some coffee and bread and meat, before you 
start, and put you up something to eat on the way.” 

“ It would be such a good way for me,” said 
Maggie, “ but how can you get on with Mr. Black 
and me both gone ? ” 

“ C’list’an will take your work, I’ll attend to Miss 
Elizabeth, and Arthur can certainly do Mr. Black’s 
work here and at Mrs. Percy’s for one twenty-four 
hours. Mr. Black can be back by to-morrow noon. 
That will be all right, Maggie; go speak to Mr. 
Black and get ready at once,” said Ann. 

“ How quickly you think, Ann ! ” cried Elizabeth, 
as Maggie went off. “ It never seems to take you 
any time to think up a plan.” 

“ I think quickly about common affairs, cutting 
out sewing, arranging housework, and so on, but 
you have no idea how slow I always was about my 


THE TOOLS NEAR A T HAND. 


207 


lessons. I used to think it took me twice as long ns 
other people to acquire knowledge. If Davy and I 
had been in classes together, she would have 
laughed at me as a slow scholar. If you and I 
were in classes, Elizabeth, you would learn the 
lessons in half the time I should need to take for 
them.” 

“ I don’t half believe it,” said Elizabeth, laugh- 
ing. “ There is Mr. Black going for Mrs. Gimbel’s 
horse and cutter ! This will be a regular picnic for 
Mr. Black. Maggie’s sorrows will afford him an out- 
ing; and as for Maggie, the long sleigh-ride, the 
trip, a week’s vacation, will be such fun, that she’ll 
forget to weep any more tears for Emma, until she 
reaches her house,” said Elizabeth, in her cynical 
way. 

“ Isn’t it a blessed thing that human nature is so 
constructed that it can find amelioration for sorrows 
in the small affairs of life ? If we could not forget 
for a little, if in the on-look, the present, and the 
retrospect, we must continue on the same level of 
suffering, the dark waters standing always at flood 
over our hearts, we should be neither long-lived nor 
efficient while alive,” said Ann. 

“ But there is a great difference in people, in re- 
gard to the intensity with which they feel physical 
or mental pain. I was reading yesterday in my 
history that Sir Robert Peel was so peculiarly sen- 
sitive to all impressions, moral and physical, that he 
died from an accident from which many would have 
recovered. Well, Mr. Black has made his bargain 


208 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


with Widow Gimbel, and has gone into the stable to 
harness up,” and Elizabeth, who found relief to the 
monotony of her life in watching all that passed 
within sight of her windows, was interested in the 
preparations for the departure, until Maggie, lunch 
basket in hand, finally climbed into the cutter, and 
C’list’an, her face red from exertions in hastening 
Maggie’s exodus, concluded her labors, by putting 
three well-wrapped hot bricks into the bottom of 
the vehicle. 

The afternoon was doomed to be one of events. 
Arthur had just returned from school, and had been 
informed that the responsibilities of Mr. Black’s 
evening and morning work at home and at Mrs. 
Percy’s rested upon him, when a man drove up furi- 
ously and presently C’list’an rushed in, pale with ex- 
citement. “ Miss Ann ! here’s Mike Deal, saying 
that my brother has fallen out of the loft of Nich- 
olson’s big barn, and is hurt, they don’t know how 
much, only he’s not himself — poor boy, he is very 
often not himself — lying dead-like, and Mike has 
come for me and the doctor ! ” 

“ Go with him at once,” said Ann. “ Here, let 
me get your big cloak and your hood. Put on your 
fur-top overshoes, you have a three-miles’ ride and 
it’s growing colder. Be quick, don’t be so fright- 
ened ; you may find him in no danger.” 

C’list’an was hurriedly making ready. “ What will 
you do ? ” she cried. “ I must go, and I oughtn’t 
to go, whatever! You can’t lift Elizabeth in and 
out of bed.” 


THE TOOLS NEAR A T HAND . 


209 


“ Arthur and I can, and if we can’t, we’ll send for 
Mrs. Percy. Don’t worry about us. You’ll get 
back to-morrow, I’m sure.” 

“ Dear knows, — to leave you like this, Maggie and 
Mr. Black gone. It never rains but it pours cats 
and dogs. And it is a true word, troubles never 
come singly but in couples, same as the animals 
walked into the ark.” 

Ann went out to make some inquiries, and to 
hurry off C’list’an. Elizabeth picked up Edwin Ar- 
nold’s poems and read : 

“ Good it is helping kindred : good to dwell 
Blameless and just to all ; 

Good to give alms with good will in the heart, 

Albeit the store be small ; 

Good to speak sweet and gentle words, to be 
Merciful ! patient, mild : 

To hear the law and keep it, leading days 
Innocent, undefiled.” 

. “ That’s Ann,” said Elizabeth. 

After tea, Arthur went into the kitchen to see 
that coal and kindling were ready for morning. He 
felt unusually manly: he was doing Mr. Black’s 
work, was the only man in the house, and Mrs. 
Percy had heartily thanked him for his attentions to 
her establishment. Ann was standing by the table, 
fishing up little fortunes in silver with a dish-mop 
from the depths of her dish-pan. Arthur’s work was 
done, and he looked on. “ Cousin Ann,” he de- 
manded, “what do you wish me to be when I’m 
a man ?” 

14 


210 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ What made you think of that just now ? ” asked 
Ann. 

“ Well, when I was feeding the chickens, and get- 
ting water, coal, and kindling, locking up, seeing to 
all Mr. Black’s work, I got to thinking that Mr. 
Black had done that all his life, and there were 
plenty of boys growing up now, doing such things, 
and meaning to keep on at it always, or bound to, 
even if they don’t mean it, and I thought I wouldn’t 
like that for myself, and I began to think what would 
I be. What do you say ? ” 

“ I say I want you to be just what, after careful, 
honest thinking, you are sure you could be best, and 
most usefully. Be what will make the best man of 
you, and the most helpful man to other people. 
You cannot consider merely yourself alone, you 
must think of others. No man liveth and no man 
dieth to himself; we are bound up in bundles, 
like a sheaf of wheat, or a big fagot, in this 
world.” 

“ Now, Cousin Ann, most pious folks, if I asked 
what I should be, would say, ‘ I want you to be a 
minister.’ ” 

“ As to that,” said Ann, “ the ministry is not the 
only calling in which man can serve God acceptably. 
If every good man felt compelled to be a minister, 
in the sense you use the word, the church would be 
as badly off as a regiment, all officers and no pri- 
vates. Good laymen are in as great demand, and 
as honored of God, as great preachers. I think too, 
Arthur, that when God really wants a man in the 


THE TOOLS NEAR A T HAND. 


211 


ministry, he calls him so loudly that he is obliged 
to follow the voice. He can do nothing else. There 
are men who follow a false call to the ministry, the 
mistake of their own hearts, or the misguided voices 
of friends. After a time, they find they had no fit- 
ness for the office. Fitness, not merely in education, 
but in disposition, manners, voice, tact, health, is 
as much required in the ministry as in any other 
calling; perhaps more, because the work is more 
important.” 

“ I like to talk with you about things, Cousin Ann,” 
said Arthur, condescendingly, “ because you put so 
much good sense into them. Something, of course, 
I must be, and one time I think I’d like to be one 
thing, and one time another. I made up my mind 
last summer that I didn’t mean to keep a grocery. 
I don’t like that. Of course I want to be something 
great.” 

“ Everybody does — some succeed by striving, 
some find themselves great by what seems an acci- 
dent. If there had been no Civil War, I think Gen- 
eral Grant would never have been heard of ; he had 
left the army, and his greatness consisted in being 
able to direct to victory great armies. If there had 
been no great war he would never have found his 
field. However, Arthur, to reach any real lasting 
greatness, there is one gate through which one must 
pass, the gate of goodness.” 

“ O Cousin Ann ! Alexander and Caesar and 
Napoleon, and a lot more of them, were very great ; 
but I don’t think they were very desperately good. 


212 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


Think how Alexander killed people, just viciously , 
and how drunk he got ! ” 

“ Those were famous men, but were they really 
great? I think all the records of the world have 
not yet been finished, and one day we may have 
some grand surprises in the matter of character. As 
for greatness, Hampden, Washington, William the 
Silent, Cromwell, Cavour, were men truly great, even 
in the judgment of people who don’t count piety for 
much in a man’s make-up ; and Howard, Judson, 
Egede, Luther, Knox, Wesley, and hundreds more, 
who have spent their lives only to do good, will one 
day shine like stars on the roll of the world’s great 
ones.” 

“ Do you think I have to make up my mind right 
now what I’ll be when I’m a man ?” 

“ Not at all. If you set yourself heartily to being 
the best that you can as a boy, doing all you ought 
to do thoroughly, then there is no doubt that your 
way will be made clear when the time really comes 
for choice. You know in any business or profes- 
sion, you need good general knowledge, energy, 
honesty, manly purpose, generosity. You can cul- 
tivate these, which will help you in any line of 
life.” 

Ann had finished her dishes, washed her dish- 
towels, wiped the table and dish-pan, and taken a 
casual survey of the kitchen to see that all was in 
order. 

“ Come, boy, we must go to Elizabeth ; I think 
that she will be lonesome pretty soon.” 


THE TOOLS NEAR A T HAND. 


2I 3 


But Elizabeth was lonesome already ; and when 
she was lonesome she was cross. She now felt 
deeply injured by having been abandoned so long. 

“You know, dear child, I had the tea-dishes to 
do up, the buckwheat cakes to set for breakfast, and 
other things to do,” explained Ann, as Elizabeth 
complained of neglect. 

“You might have hurried. I know if I were 
strong like you, I’d be faster, and not leave a sick 
person so. Why need you do all that anyway ? 
Besides, you might have sent Arthur in here. I 
heard you talk, talk, talking, there, and no one near 
me ! No one cares for me. You are all so selfish.” 
Just at this minute, Elizabeth had changed her 
mind about Ann, and did not think her good at all ! 

“ I’d like to know what you call yourself,” growled 
Arthur. 

“Arthur, get at your lessons,” said Ann ; “doing 
the work has made you later than usual ; how about 
that arithmetic ? ” 

“ Hard as rocks.” 

“ Then all the more need to study hard. Go with 
your books into the other room ; I’m going to read 
to Elizabeth, and that would take your attention. 
Elizabeth, here is a lovely book that Dr. Helen 
Train spoke of in one of her letters, ‘ Sister Dora.’ 
I know you will enjoy it.” 

But Elizabeth was uneasy, very small things an- 
noyed her. C’list’an’s absence made her nervous 
and irritable. She broke out, “ How am I to get to 
bed?” 


214 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ All right, dearie, I’ll manage it.” 

“ Are you going to sleep down here ? ” 

“ Certainly. I would not think of leaving you 
alone.” 

“ Oh, wouldn’t you hate to be helpless like me ? ” 
“ I hope God would give me grace for whatever 
he called me to do or to suffer, just as he will and 
does you, Elizabeth. Suppose the time comes 
when you can leave that chair, when you can stand 
upon your feet ! not to be very active, perhaps, but 
even to walk on crutches would be a great improve- 
ment. Let us hope for good things to come.” 

“ I’m so tired of everything, and so dull, and so 
shut in, and so — lonesome,” reiterated Elizabeth. 

“ I forgot to tell you there would be something 
new to interest you. This morning I saw Mr. 
Grace, and he said that house of yours, that the 
Hares have lived in, is to be rented to Mr. Spring 
at a better price, but it must be papered and painted 
now before they go in. They can do it now, by 
keeping the fires going. Mr. Grace wants you to 
select the paper and paint. He will send you a list 
of the rooms, and the amounts of paper needed. 
Then you can write to the shop for a sample sheet 
of paint colors, and write to Mr. Keep to send up 
to you the sample strips of wall paper. He can 
take the trouble to send a boy up to exhibit them 
to you, as you are to buy for a whole house ! Then 
you can have a fine time choosing. Mr. Grace said 
he would let you know what priced papers it would 
be well to buy. In fact, Elizabeth, more and more 


THE TOOLS NEAR AT HAND. 215 

you must begin to attend to your own business ; it 
will be pleasant to you, and it is only right that you 
should do what you can.” 

Ann herself had suggested this little plan for 
Elizabeth to Mr. Grace, and insisted upon having 
it carried through. But of that she said nothing. 
Elizabeth allowed herself to be beguiled, and ceased 
to mourn over being neglected. After a while Ann 
made her ready for bed, and, aided by Arthur, lifted 
her from chair to bed. “ See here, young woman,” 
she said, cheerily, “ I believe if you had a strap to 
take hold of you’d do a deal of lifting for yourself. 
I mean to try fixing one for you.” Then she turned 
the light low, and, swaying in her rocking-chair in 
the gloom, sang Elizabeth to sleep to the words : 

“ For the love of God is broader 
Than the measure of man’s mind, 

And the heart of the Eternal 
Is most wonderfully kind.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


DIVINE MANNERS. 

“Cruel and cold is the judgment of man, 

Cruel as winter and cold as the snow ; 

By and by will the deed and the plan, 

Be judged by the motive that lies below.” 

Ann raised her head to offer a correction to 
Elizabeth’s reading of a passage of French : as she 
did so, she saw a most aggravating spectacle on her 
lawn. It was late March, mild, the snows were 
gone, the earth teeming with moisture, and what 
Ann saw was three round black bulks, furnished 
with little wriggling handles, prying into the ground, 
obtaining leverage by bracing themselves at an 
angle of forty-five degrees ; these black things seemed 
to be alive, but headless ; in fact, they were neighbor 
Dibbs’ pigs, buried to their ears in the soft lawn. 

With a cry of vexation Ann started up. “ I won't 
try to stand this any longer ! I shall go and tell 
those Dibbs people that if they will not keep their 
pigs shut up, I shall sue them for damages. I’ll 
have those pigs indicted as public nuisances.” She 
caught her hat from the rack, had opened the front 
door — then — slowly closed the door, hung up the 
hat, and went to the rear door to call Mr. Black ; 

216 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


217 


but he had already gone against the depredators 
with a long pole, and the pigs were fleeing with wild 
squeals. Ann took her place and reopened the 
French book. 

“ Ann,” said Elizabeth, “ why did you change your 
mind and hang up your hat ? I’m sure what you 
proposed was quite right — patience with the Dibbs 
faction has ceased to be a virtue.” 

“ Perhaps so,” said Ann, hesitating, and adding 
with a half-embarrassed laugh, “ the fact is, Eliza- 
beth, I thought of some texts ; really, all at once, 
my mind seemed to be a big open book, written all 
over with texts.” 

“ And what were the texts, please ? ” demanded 
Elizabeth.” 

“ Oh, so many ! ‘ Dearly beloved, avenge not 

yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath,’ ‘The 
servant of God should not strive,’ ‘ Slow to wrath,’ 
* Leave off contention before it be meddled with,’ 
and so on — dozens of them.” 

“I suppose,” said Elizabeth, astutely, “ that when 
the mind is stored with Scripture it is like a book, 
and when we need guiding, our angel turns the leaves, 
and shows us what is written.” 

“ Better than that,” said Ann, “ I think it is this 
that is meant when it is said of the Holy Spirit, he 
shall take of the things of Christ and show them 
unto us,” and they returned to the lesson. In a few 
minutes it was finished. 

Elizabeth, closing the book on her lap, turned to 
look out of the window. “ There is the doctor’s buggy 


2l8 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


going into the Dibbs’,” she exclaimed. “ I wonder 
if any one is sick there ! Why ! There are two 
doctors in the buggy, and they seem to be in a hurry, 
I wonder what has happened ? ” 

“ C’list’an,” said Ann, “you go over and inquire 
if we can do anything for them, if they are in any 
trouble.” 

C’list’an went quickly. 

“ Now,” said Elizabeth, “ your mind-book of texts 
can show you the place about heaping coals of fire 
on their heads ! I didn’t know but you would 
quote that, too, just now, and at once put it in prac- 
tice, by telling Maggie to make a frosted lemon pie 
or a loaf of angel food to send to Mrs. Dibbs, as 
pay for her pigs’ work in our yard. The angel food 
would be especially appropriate.” 

C’list’an returned highly excited by her budget 
of news. 

“ The horse scared at a machine they were drag- 
ging along the street and turned over the wagon 
on Mr. Dibbs and Jerry. Mr. Dibbs has an arm 
broken and a leg broken, and Jerry has a long cut 
they have to sew up, and Mrs. Dibbs has gone into 
hysterics fearful, and is making more noise than 
Mr. Dibbs or Jerry, and the doctors say she’s more 
trouble than the hurt men.” 

“ C’list’an, come over there with me at once. 
Here, take this clean white apron. I’ll bring Mrs. 

, Dibbs over here, and you stay and help the doctors, 
as you are a good nurse.” 

“ The house,” said C’list’an, “ is all in an uproar, 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


219 

beds not made, dishes not washed, Mrs. Bibbs’ 
ironing all lying out on the chairs.” 

“ Maggie ! ” cried Ann, “ leave our work for a 
little, and come set Mrs. Dibbs’ house in order ; 
you can do as much work as two, when you try.” 

Away the three ran, and soon Elizabeth saw Ann 
returning, leading Mrs. Dibbs, who was weeping 
and wringing her hands in a wild state. They dis- 
appeared in the kitchen, and Elizabeth sat wonder- 
ing what they were doing. She still heard spas- 
modic outcries from Mrs. Dibbs, varied by voluble 
remarks. Then Ann came in. 

“ May Mrs. Dibbs lie down here on the lounge, 
Elizabeth, while I finish Maggie’s work? The work 
over at the Dibbs’ will take her all the morning. I 
told her to stay and get things into shape, and iron 
some sheets, pillowcases and towels for them.” 

“ Yes, indeed, bring her in here,” replied Elizabeth. 

Ann led in their guest. Elizabeth saw that Ann 
had bathed the excited woman’s face and hands, 
combed her hair, put upon her C’list’an’s slippers, 
and a clean white apron, and otherwise tried the 
soothing effects of arranging her toilette. She 
placed her on the lounge, put a fresh pillow under 
her head, and gave her a handkerchief wet with 
cologne. Then she fanned her for a little, talking 
quietly. “ Keep calm and rest yourself now, when 
Maggie comes back she will tell us that the injuries 
are much less than you fear. Do not worry, 
C’list’an is a fine nurse, and she can stay all day ; 
they have plenty of help. Mr. Black went over, 


220 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


and Mrs. Percy. Don’t think of your work; 
Maggie is a fine worker, and so willing ; she will put 
your house in order, do that ironing, keep plenty of 
hot water for the doctors, and cook what is needed ; 
she, too, can stay all day.” 

Mrs. Dibbs sobbed a while, then some shade of 
sense appeared. “ Oh, if I could get Jimmy, and 
send him out after my sister Catherin£; Catherine 
is such a nurse, she’d come and stay weeks with 
me. I’m no kind of a nurse, but Catherine just 
takes to it.” 

“ And Jimmy is in school ? ” said Ann. 

“ Oh, yes, dear ! dear ! I wish he was here, he 
won’t come before two hours.” 

“ Yes he will ; if you’ll keep very quiet, and not 
disturb Elizabeth, and will go to either of the doors 
if any one comes, I’ll go to the school and tell 
Jimmy to go for his Aunt Catherine. I’ll tell him 
what has happened.” 

“ How will he get there ? Our horse is hurt, and 
I wouldn’t dare to let Jimmy ride him, after he has 
nigh killed poppy and Jerry, oh dear, oh dear! 
Oh ! ! ! ” 

“ Hush, now, or I can’t leave you,” said Ann. 
“ Listen : I will ask Mr. Gillespie to lend Jimmy his 
horse and buggy. That horse is safe, and Jimmie 
can bring his aunt back with him.” Then, seeing 
Mrs. Gates at her door, Ann beckoned her from 
the verandah, and asked her to come stay with 
Elizabeth and Mrs. Dibbs, while she sent Jimmy for 
help for his family. 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


221 


Mrs. Gates came, with a very intricate specimen 
of patchwork in her hand, which did more to soothe 
Mrs. Dibbs than either the advice, cologne or 
lavender, which Ann had administered. Ann went 
off content, leaving Mrs. Gates to explain the true 
inwardness of the new pattern of patchwork, and 
Mrs. Dibbs to detail the events of the accident, 
dwelling especially on the home-bringing of the 
injured, the “ topsy-turvy condition of the house,” 
and her own “ awful feelings.” 

“ There now,” said Ann, when, in less than an 
hour, she came back, “ Jimmy has started for his 
Aunt Catherine. I have been at the house, Mrs. 
Dibbs ; Jerry’s # cut has been sewed up, and he is in 
bed, resting quietly ; he is in your spare room, and 
it looks very neat and nice, and C’list’an has made 
up a fire there in the Franklin, and has made Jerry 
clean and comfortable in a fresh nightshirt. They 
think Jerry will be all right in a week, if he is kept 
very quiet, so that no fever comes on. Maggie is 
getting on fine with the work ; Mr. Dibbs is in your 
room, and Maggie has put it in order, and they are 
about to set the arm, and after that the leg. The 
doctor says Mr. Dibbs has no internal injuries, and 
his head is not hurt. C’list’an and Mr. Black are 
helping the doctors, Mrs. Percy is doing up your 
sitting room, and Maggie will see to the rest, and 
finish the ironing ; so all you need to do, Mrs. 
Dibbs, is to keep calm and rest yourself ; when all 
is in order, the patients are quiet, and your sister 
Catherine has come, you can go home comfortably.” 


222 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ I’ll stay here, a little while, Miss Ann,” said 
Mrs. Gates, “as you have Maggie’s work to do and 
dinner to get; by the time I’m ready to go home, 
Mrs. Dibbs can go with me and take dinner, and 
stay until her sister comes.” 

Ann was thankful enough for this suggestion, as 
she did not wish to have Elizabeth worn out with 
Mrs. Dibbs’ futile ohs and ahs, and sudden re- 
lapses into hysterics. 

Finally the work was done, the dinner was cook- 
ing on the stove, Mrs. Gates took Mrs. Dibbs away 
with her, and Ann, with a sigh of relief, dropped 
into a big rocking-chair to rest. 

“ How thankful I am, Elizabeth, that some angel 
stood in the way of my rushing over to Mrs. Dibbs 
with threats this morning. How horrible it would 
have been to go in there with an angry expostula- 
tion, just as all this trouble had fallen upon them ! 
This reminds me of the day I came down from 
Mount Merion Cottage. The cars were crowded, 
we stood in the aisles. On one seat a plump, rosy 
girl of eighteen sat, leaning against the window, 
her right foot drawn up along the seat, in easy 
fashion, so that she occupied the whole of it ; she 
was reading, and did not offer to relinquish her hold 
of the second place. I felt like saying, ‘ Miss, have 
you paid for two ?’ or ‘ What pleasure would there 
be in traveling if all behaved selfishly ? ’ or ‘ How 
can you keep your foot up like this, while ladies 
with gray hair stand?’ However, I said nothing, 
but rested as comfortably as I could upon the arm 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


223 


of the seat. No one asked her to give up the double 
place, but many glanced at it. As we went on, she 
closed her book, and said in a gentle voice, ‘ I look 
very selfish, but — I can’t ticket myself, can I ? I 
wish I could give you this seat. I wish I could give 
it all and stand. But this right leg is in plaster, and 
I cannot move until I am carried off the car, as I 
was carried on ! ’ Then we had a very pleasant 
talk until we reached the city. Oh, how glad I was 
that I had considered silence golden, and not made 
any uncalled-for remarks. ‘ Slow to speak,’ that 
text comes in so well, often, Elizabeth.” 

“ That reminds me of a verse I saw the other day. 
Angels speak : 

“ O mortal man, be wary how you judge, 

For we, who see the Maker, know not yet.” 

“ Yes, dear Elizabeth, and I have often heard 
Dr. Helen Train quote, ‘ Make not thyself the judge 
of any man.’ She says she often sees much of 
stupidity, carelessness, selfishness ; so many un- 
pleasant developments of the human heart, that 
she is tempted to as wide generalizations in con- 
demnation as that literary bear, Carlyle, and then 
she calls the 1 judge not ’ to mind, and makes the 
widest allowances for heredity and environment, 
and finds that the more lenient she is to others the 
more readily, easily, successfully she gets on with 
her own work.” 

“ I should think that physicians would see enough 
to fully disgust them with humanity ; they see hu- 


224 


TO WA RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 


man nature so unveiled in the abandonment of 
trouble. What can those doctors over at the Bibbs’ 
think of Mrs. Dibbs, but as a loud, helpless, slat- 
ternly woman, most useless when most needed ? ” 

Ann laughed and shook her head at Elizabeth, 
who was judging her neighbor with a vengeance. 
Then she said : “ A physician who carries about the 
thought of the generous, sympathetic, much-forbear- 
ing Christ, the ideal physician, will have that to help 
in the fight against irritation and condemnation of 
our fellows. Christ life-long shows us what are the 
manners of the upward way ; divine manners, the 
manners we should have here below, and that with 
a very little further polishing will fit us in heaven. 
The summing up of such manners is ‘ long-suffering 
and forbearing one another in love.’ Many people 
strive after good manners, and speak as if they were 
of the unattainable, when in truth ‘good manners 
are made up of petty sacrifices.’ Christ is the 
finest model and the Bible the best book of eti- 
quette.” 

“ I think,” said Elizabeth, “ that even among the 
few people that I have seen I have noticed that real 
Christians often had a refinement much above their 
station in life. Aunt Fontaine used to have an old 
man come here to do a little repairing work about 
the house; he could hang paper, mend plaster, 
paint. He was a simple old fellow, and could 
scarcely read ; he often brought his Bible along to 
get aunt to tell him some of the hard words, or to 
explain the meaning of texts. His whole life seemed 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


225 


bound up in his religion. Poor and ignorant as he 
was, he had such fine manners ! It never troubled 
me to have him working in my room ; I used to like 
to hear him talk — always about religion ; other 
workmen always made me nervous. I was so sorry 
when the old man died, yet that was very selfish of 
me, for I am sure he went straight to heaven, where 
all his thoughts were. Once, wfien he was here, I 
picked up a hymn-book, and, because I thought a 
verse was pretty, I read it aloud to aunt. He 
stopped to listen, then begged me to read it again, 
and finally asked me to print it out clearly on a card 
for him to take home. It was : 

“ O Jesus, Lord, once crucified 
To take our load of guilt away, 

Thine be the hymn that rolls its tide 
Along those shores of upper day.” 

“ The Evangelist says, ‘ All . . . wondered at the 
gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth,’ ** 
said Ann. “No doubt ‘the gracious Galilean,’ as 
Holland calls him, ‘ the first true gentleman that ever 
breathed,’ as some other poet says, excelled in that 
most subtle and beautiful quality of graciousness, 
which is the very sum and substance of good man- 
ners. Yet, for all that, we have this ‘light divine 
and searching’ cast upon our daily ways in this 
world. How often we forget the pattern of the 
divine manners, and are so unkindly ! 

Ann spoke from her own experiences in this mat- 
ter. She came into Elizabeth’s room one afternoon, 
looking rather downcast, and after taking up her 

*5 


226 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


work and proceeding with it for a time, she broke 
out. “ I am so ashamed of myself, I don’t know 
what to do ! I fairly hate myself. I am worse than 
those Hebrews to whom the apostle says, that when 
they ought to be teachers they have need that some 
one teach them again.” 

“ Dear me, Ann ! What has happened ? ” asked 
Elizabeth. 

“ You had just been settled for your nap, and 
Maggie and C’list’an had started on their shopping 
expedition, all the house being so nice and quiet, 
when I went into the library to try and get a nap on 
the lounge there. I felt so tired, for Arthur had a 
dreadful toothache in the night, and I was up 
about three hours trying to do something for him. 
As I laid down I wished so much that you, Elizabeth, 
would have a good sleep, as you have not felt well 
to-day. And I so much wanted a sleep too ! I was 
just in a nice nap, when our front door-bell was 
pulled and jerked in the most furious fashion. I 
jumped up, my heart going like a trip-hammer. I 
was sure Arthur had been half killed by some acci- 
dent, or that a telegram had come with news of Davy 
being dead. I opened the door ; all in a tremble J 
was — and there stood a big, muddy countryman, witfc 
a pipe in his mouth, which he did not take out, when 
he said: ‘Want fresh beef, missus?’ I flew 
angry at once. ‘No, I do not,’ I said ‘and I wish 
you knew how to ring a door-bell properly, and not 
raise such an uproar ’ and so I shut the door — with 
decision .” Elizabeth burst into a laugh. 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


227 


“You did just right,” cried the irrepressible 
C’list’an, who had now returned, and was untying 
her bundles, “ only I wish you’d slammed the door 
right in his face, he needed it.” 

“ Well, I didn’t need that exhibition of bad man- 
ners to make me any more ashamed of myself than 
I am.” 

“ What was there wrong in it ? ” demanded Eliza- 
beth, “the man was rude enough.” 

“Yes: no doubt, but when I went back to lie 
down, I thought that, probably, in all his life, he had 
had no instructions in good manners : he may never 
see any, unless the people where he deals see fit to 
give him a sample, which surely I was very far from 
doing. I considered that Christ never gave rough nor 
unkind replies, under any provocation. When Peter 
went so far as to deny him, he only ‘turned and 
looked upon Peter.’ The man, you see, probably 
knew no better than he did, and had no intention 
of offending. Then too, I felt sure that his life was 
much harder and less pleasant than mine, and I 
ought to have been ready to brighten it what little I 
could. How did I know how much anxiety he had 
centered in his sales to-day ? A debt, a mortgage 
may be burdening him so that he cannot draw an 
easy breath. My words cannot fail to be a dark 
spot, a bitter thought in this day, always. I could 
not buy his meat, because I did not need it, but I 
might have said pleasantly, ‘ I don’t need any meat, 
thank you : probably it is very nice, and some other 
time I may be glad to buy.’ Then he would have 


228 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

felt pleased and cheered, and even the house where 
he sold nothing would remain a bright spot in his 
memory.” 

“ Well, that would have been better,” assented 
Elizabeth, “but perhaps he is not a man to care for 
such things after all.” 

“ Everybody cares more or less,” said Ann. 
“ Suppose, too, he ever heard me spoken of as a 
Christian, surely he would think such a swift-to-take- 
offence person was a very poor Christian. When I 
went back to the library, I could not sleep. I lay 
there taking myself to task.” 

“ The jingling of the bell woke me up, but I soon 
fell asleep again,” said Elizabeth. 

“ That was because you did not have an uneasy 
conscience,” said Ann. “ Now I did not deserve to 
get asleep.” 

“ Oh, it was but a little thing,” said Elizabeth, 
“ why worry over it ? ” 

“ Because I am terribly afraid that it is not an 
unusual occurrence, but the exhibition of a very evil 
habit in me. Do you know that when Maggie was 
away, when her cousin died, and Maggie stayed two 
weeks instead of one, and I needed a washerwoman 
just such another thing occurred. One day I was 
making bread in the kitchen, when there was a 
knock at the back door. It is a trouble to take your 
hands out of bread dough ; I don’t like bread-making 
anyway ; I was worried because Maggie did not 
come back ; on the whole I felt unreasonably cross. 
So I opened the door, and there stood a big, dull, dirty 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


229 


woman, who said, ‘ Missus, I hearn tell you wanted 
a lady to wash..' What do you think I did ? I blush 
now to recall it. I snapped out, ‘ No : I don’t want 
any lady to wash, I’m looking for a woman who 
knows how to work,’ and then I shut the door, feel- 
ing humiliated beyond words over having said the 
silliest thing I ever uttered ; for how did I know 
that in good feeling and honorable intentions the 
proposed washerwoman was not really a lady ? and 
is not woman a far finer title than lady ? Who ever 
thought of calling Eve, our mother, a lady, rather 
than a woman ? Woman, was the term Christ used 
to his mother. In fact, Elizabeth, I wonder my 
bread that day was not heavy with the heavy 
thoughts I put into it. I felt that I was very far 
from the Glory Gate, that my manners were not the 
manners of that upward way that leads to the City 
of God. If my mind is measured by my words, it 
shows a pretty poor, weakly sort of mind.” 

“ O Miss Ann, you mind these little things too 
much,” said C’list’an, “ you set too high notions be- 
fore you. I shouldn’t know myself if I didn’t say 
a great many things that I oughtn’t to say every 
day.” 

“It is love that is lacking in me,” said Ann to 
Elizabeth. “ I am convinced of it. I picked up a 
commentary in the library this morning, and read 
this : * Love is not only an eternal grace, but the 
highest grace. Other graces contribute to heaven ; 
love constitutes heaven, for a heart of love, in a 
world of love, is heaven. If a spark of God’s love 


230 


TO WA RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 


now beams in our hearts, it is of the nature of 
heaven.’ Now if I had love enough in my make- 
up, my conduct would be much more heavenly.” 

“ O Cousin Ann,” cried Arthur from outside the 
the window, “ I want to show you something ! ” 
Ann went out. Arthur had a big, well-scoured, 
hard clam-shell in his hand, white as snow up to the 
purple eye, and a semi-lune on one edge. “ Come 
along, see what I’m going to put in this. Our straw- 
berries have begun to get ripe ; there are six big, red 
ones in the bed there, so early. I’m going to pick 
them, with nice long stems on, and a little green 
leaf, and set them by Elizabeth’s plate in this shell, 
for a surprise, for supper.” 

“ That’s right,” said Ann, “ we must always think 
for Elizabeth,” but she reflected that Arthur’s action 
showed very right indeed, for Elizabeth had been 
most snappish and tantalizing to Arthur at dinner. 
Elizabeth had not felt well that day, and when she 
felt less well than usual, she was irritable, and must 
vent her irritability on some one. Poor Arthur had 
happened to serve as the conducting-rod for the 
lightning of her wrath that day, and Arthur himself, 
after a night of toothache, had been in no condition 
to have his rights infringed upon. Ann had admired 
the nonchalant manner in which he had received the 
assaults of Elizabeth. She said now, “ I’m so glad, 
Arthur, that you bear Elizabeth no grudge for her 
cross words, and that you did not quarrel with her 
at dinner.” 

“Pooh,” said Arthur, “ I’d grow up into a pretty 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


231 

man, wouldn’t I, if I set out to quarrel with a girl, 
and a sick one at that ? ” 

Perhaps it was because Elizabeth had been sin- 
ning with her tongue, and sowing dragon’s teeth, to 
spring up into armed strife, that Ann had so freely 
expounded her own faults, and spoken of the more 
excellent way. No doubt the “ silver arrow let 
gently into the heart,” did its work, for Elizabeth 
seemed to be meditating on what had been said. 
As Ann sat with her, according to her custom, for 
the half hour before bed-time, Elizabeth said : “ Ann, 
why did you say that love was the highest grace ? 
Is not faith ? We are saved through faith.” 

“ I said love was the greatest, because I have 
Scripture warrant for it, ‘ The greatest of these is 
charity,’ meaning love.” 

“ But, Ann, it seems to me that in most books 
that I have read, and in most religious talk I have 
heard, Aunt Fontaine’s, Mrs. Gates, old Dr. Prynne’s, 
faith was made the all and in all. I heard little but 
about faith.” 

“ Yes,” said Ann, “ we could not do without faith, 
that is the heroic grace of the soul, a kind of spirit- 
ual Great Heart, going sword in hand to conduct us 
toward the Glory Gate. ‘ This is the victory that 
overcometh the world, even our faith.’ But many 
people seem to make faith their object. They 
worry about their faith, the kind of faith, the amount 
of faith, the vitality of their faith, as if that were the 
main thing. Christ is the main thing. The all-suf- 
ficiency, the sole sufficiency, of Christ, that is what 


232 


TO WA RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 


fills John’s Gospel to overflow, and Christ is em- 
bodied love. Christ came, Example, Leader, Sav- 
iour. Faith rests on him for our salvation, love fol- 
lows closely at his side, marking the shining steps 
he trod, looking for his smile, hearkening for his 
voice, seeking to walk in his shadow with great de- 
light, putting out the hand to feel the touch of his. 
Faith lays hold of his garment’s hem, love lies like 
John against his breast. If we all felt more of the 
potency of this love, we should cease to measure the 
world with the letter /.” 

“ Ann,” said Arthur’s voice from the verandah, 
“ are you going to spend all night talking there with 
Elizabeth ? I have put up the hammock ; this is 
the first night it has been warm enough to sit out 
when it was moonlight; come out here, I like to 
hear you talk about the stars.” 

“Yes, go to Arthur,” said Elizabeth, “ maybe the 
boy is lonely.” 

Even this little concession was much from Eliza- 
beth, it showed that she was thinking for others, 
coming to realize that she did not walk in a solitary 
way toward the Glory Gate, but had fellow-travel- 
lers to consider. For such thinking Elizabeth was 
not only healthier but happier. Nothing is more 
disastrous than to be self-centered, self does not give 
one sufficient breathing-room ! 

“Let us talk about the stars,” said Arthur. “ I 
wonder if people far up there are looking down at 
us, and talking about us ? Where do they find us 
in their sky ? ” 


DIVINE MANNERS. 


2 33 


“ There is no up nor down in space,” said Ann, 
“ and if another world’s people are looking toward 
our world, they can only find us where we are, and 
that is in the Milky Way, that ribbon of pale light 
that stretches across the sky. People on other 
worlds would have hard work to find us, for our 
earth is so tiny that it could not be seen by dwell- 
ers on other constellations.” 

“ Perhaps they are made different from us,” said 
Arthur. 

“They would need be made very different,” said 
Ann, “ if they are to live even on the other planets 
of our system, to say nothing of those far-off stars.” 

“ Perhaps they have eyes stronger than any of our 
telescopes,” said Arthur. “ Now, I saw a crab 
once, and his eyes were set on pegs ; he could shoot 
them up half an inch or more from his head, and 
pull them clear down to his shell ! Perhaps people 
in the other worlds have eyes which they can ad- 
just to suit themselves, so that they are like prodig- 
iously strong telescopes, when they want to see far, 
far off, and like the strongest kind of microscopes 
when they want to see little, little things, like the 
feathers on butterflies’ wings, or the way beetles’ 
wing-cases are chiseled. Perhaps some fellow up 
there is putting on his long-view eyes, and taking a 
look way here to see us sitting in this hammock. 
What if his ears are so keen that he can hear little 
sounds billions and trillions of miles off, and hears 
all we are saying ? ” 

“ He stands a chance of being as disgusted as 


234 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


angels must be by some human remarks,” said Ann, 
and then she and Arthur giggled at the idea of the 
strong-eyed, keen-eared man — but softly, so as not 
to disturb Elizabeth. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


IN TIME OF FAMINE — SATISFIED. 

“ Break thou the Bread of Life, 

Dear Lord, to me, 

As thou didst break the loaves, 

Beyond the sea.” 

June had come. June was nearly half gone. 
Davy was at home. Ann and Arthur met her at 
the station. There was a little whirlwind of greet- 
ings, exclamations, hugs and kisses. It was all very 
joyful, and, as Davy said to herself, “ so real homey.” 
Then Davy privately recalled the day of Ann’s com- 
ing to Dillburg, when not only she herself had not 
gone to meet her, but had sedulously refrained from 
refusing to go, so as the better to insure no one 
being at the train, and the intruding successor of 
Aunt Fontaine being left to find her way alone to 
her new abode. Davy felt rabid against herself 
when she thought of this, and she took a sidewise, 
private glance at Ann, to see if she remembered it. 
No, Ann’s strong, plain face had only a serene joy 
in the safe return of Davy. Ann never laid up 
grievances ; by refraining from dwelling even on the 
cruellest injuries they, after a time, became dim and 

235 


236 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

drifted into misty forgetfulness. Other people re- 
membered her wrongs much longer than she did. 
There was an evidence of this now. As they turned 
from the station, lo ! a “ Chester white,” rooting for 
her six piggies, near a fence. 

“ Oh ! ” cried Davy, “ the first pig I’ve seen since 
I left ! Are they as bad as ever ? What does Ann 
do about them ? ” 

“We had to lay out a lot of work and money, 
keeping the Dibbs’ pigs out. I worked three whole 
Saturdays,” said Arthur, “ helping Mr. Black fix the 
fences — the Dibbs’ half and ours, too. Don’t you 
think Mr. Dibbs and Jerry got half-killed, and Ann 
did so many things for them, lent ’em Maggie and 
C’list’an, and sent ’em beef tea and all kinds of nice 
things to eat; and lent 'em things, and made up on' 
her machine five pair of sheets, ’cause Mrs. Dibbs 
is always out of things, and so slow doing any- 
thing. Well, then, after all that, mind you, C’list’an 
said to her one day : ‘ Mrs. Dibbs, can’t you keep 
your pigs in a strong pen? they do worry Miss 
Bradford so ; ’ and Mrs. Dibbs said : ‘ Well, Miss 
Bradford didn’t come here to meddle with my affairs, 
as I know of ; and I won’t have it, I can tell her. 
If my pigs bother her, let her sell her place and 
move. I can get along without her for a neighbor.’ ” 

“O Arthur, Arthur !” cried Ann, “what are you 
telling that for? C’list’an should never have re- 
peated it to us. Who expects sense from Mrs. 
Dibbs ? The more I see of her, the less I expect.” 

“But, Cousin Ann, the ingratitude, the horrid 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— S A TISFIED. 237 

ingratitude ! ” cried Davy. “ What can she be made 
of!” 

“ Professor Peck said one day, when we were talk- 
ing of noble acts, in ‘ general discussion hour,’ ” said 
Arthur, “that there were many more noble and 
generous acts performed than there were instances 
of gratitude ; he said there were very few cases 
of real gratitude — gratitude was scarcer than dia- 
monds. I asked him why there were so many sto- 
ries about ‘ grateful this and grateful that,’ and he 
said that because gratitude was so scarce and so 
pleasing, people liked to depict it, and to try in this 
way to encourage it, and that the lower animals 
were much readier to exhibit it than human beings.” 

“ Oh, I see our house, and Elizabeth’s chair on 
the verandah ! ” cried Davy, setting off on a run to 
get to her sister. 

When Davy’s trunk came, “ Shall I unpack it in 
your room, Elizabeth ? ” said Davy. 

“Yes, of course, I’d like to see if there is one 
single thing in it that does not need mending,” said 
Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth, improved as she undoubtedly was, was 
far from perfect, and the rejoicings of the family 
over Davy’s arrival, the prompt coming over of Mrs. 
Percy and Mrs. Gates to join in the welcome had 
aroused some spleen. Davy was, however, too 
happy just then to take offence. She said gayly, 
“ If you find one thing that needs mending, it will 
be more than I think. Bring the trunk in here, 
please, Mr. Black.” 


238 


TO WA RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 


The soft answer that turneth away wrath had its 
effect. Elizabeth returned to good humor, and 
said, “ Well, Davy, as soon as you came in, I 
thought how nice you looked, and how well you had 
kept that travelling-dress. I’ll give you another this 
fall, so you can use that for common now.” 

Davy made haste to unpack. She had managed 
some presents for them all, including a necktie for 
Mr. Black, and nice handkerchiefs for Maggie and 
C’list’an. 

“I don’t see how you got so much for the little 
money you have, Davy,” said Elizabeth. 

“ Oh, things are cheap in the city, and I’ve been 
real saving, so I could have something for presents. 
I do love to give presents ! I’d like that best, if I 
were rich.” 

“You’ve showed real good taste in your buying, 
too.” 

“ Miss Dorothy Camp helped me in that. I spent 
the day with her last Saturday, and we shopped in 
the afternoon. Ann, Miss Dorothy said to tell you 
she was coming here for five weeks this summer, 
and Doctor Helen Train would be here for two. 
Doctor Helen is great, I can tell you. She had a 
surgical case that all the folks are talking about, and 
she has had two papers in the medical journal that 
have made a great stir.” 

“ Why don’t you be a doctor, Davy ? ” demanded 
Arthur, who was sitting astride a chair, looking on. 

“ No, indeed, I don’t take to it. I mean to be a 
professor, like Miss Sara Fordyce. That’s what I 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— S A TISFIED. 239 

mean to be. I saw Miss Fordyce, Cousin Ann, at 
the college party, the big reception, Tuesday night. 
I wore my pink dress. I’ve been to four college 
parties this year, and I wore my white dress twice, 
and my pink dress twice, and they’re as good as 
new, not a spot on them. They’ll do next year, if 
we make them longer. See,” and Davy shook out the 
cherished gowns. “ I went to two ‘ Teas,’ one was 
the College Literary Society Tea, and one was the 
Greek Letter Tea, and they asked me. I wore my 
brown silk. Next year, when I’m Freshman, I shall 
join the Greek Letter society one, you know.” 

Elizabeth burst into a laugh. “ At the rate you 
are telling your news, Davy, we shall know your 
whole budget before bedtime. Then what will there 
be to talk about ? ” 

“I’ll find plenty,” said Davy; “the city isn’t like 
this place, where nothing goes on ; it is crammed 
full of things to see and learn and talk about. 
There is always somewheres to go. Oh, it’s fine ! ” 

A cloud came over Elizabeth’s fair face, and she 
turned away, looking wearily out of the window. 
The prospect was much more attractive than it had 
been two years before. Ann kept her fences and 
grounds in perfect order. Bushes of roses and 
weigelia were in bloom, the air was sweet with the 
odor of honeysuckles ; over the way the Percy 
house had been renovated and the yard was beauti- 
ful ; each place had jewel-bright flower-beds, but all 
this was simple and well known ; this was not the 
variety, the activity, of the city. Elizabeth was weary 


240 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


of what she had, and longed after the “ had not.” 
Davy saw the look, and her heart smote her. 
i( What a fool I am,” she thought, “ to talk like that 
when Elizabeth can never have anything but this ! ” 

Then Davy showed considerable tact ; she glanced 
at the table and caught up a book. “ Why, Eliza- 
beth ! Are you reading Fior d’Aliza in French ! 
How far you have got on ! I wish I knew French ; 
but I have to wait until next year to begin. You’ll 
be reading French as easily as English, and begin 
Italian, maybe, before I’m out of First French 
Lessons.” 

“ Why don’t you begin this year ? ” said Elizabeth, 
coming back to interest in life. “ I like it ever so 
much.” 

“They make us take German next year,” said 
Davy, “ so as to have a longer course at it.” 

The next day Sue Stryker arrived to interview 
Davy. 

“ Like college as much as you expected to, 
Davy ? ” 

“ More ! ” cried Davy, with enthusiasm. “ This 
last year, you know, I had only a tutor, and finished 
up my preparatory. Now, next year I’ll be in -the 
regular course, Fresh ! Oh, I’m so glad I have four 
years of it ; I like it so ! If I had to graduate in 
one year more, wouldn’t I be sorry ! ” 

“ Miss Fisher says your Cousin Ann will get sick 
of her bargain long before you’re through, and will 
make you come home. There’s Arthur to go, you 
know.” 


IN TIME OF FAMINE-SATISFIED. 241 

“ Miss Fisher is giving herself too much trouble, 
trying to think of my affairs as well as her own,” 
said Davy, flushing. 

“ Oh, it’s her way, you know. Mrs. Stone said — 
she’s such a funny woman to talk — that much more 
likely you’d run off with some dry-goods clerk, than 
get a diploma. She said she wouldn’t trust such a 
wild piece as you any farther than she could see 
you. But I told her I wouldn’t go quite as far as 
that, you have some sense.” 

“ Thank you,” said Davy, curtly. 

“ Sue Stryker,” spoke up Elizabeth, “ how can you 
be such a gossip ? ” 

“ Call me a gossip ! ” cried Sue, in surprise, “ what 
then do you call Mrs. Stone and Laura Howell ? 
Why, Laura has come near being sued for slander 
twice ! And nobody believes what Mrs. Stone 
says, unless they know it from other sources. Why 
those people make things, I only tell what I hear.” 

“ I read this to-day,” said Elizabeth, “ ‘ The just 
man does not need to expose the faults of others 
to prove his own virtue.’ I’m glad Davy is going to 
be well educated, if for nothing else because it will 
keep her from making her whole conversation a 
* they say ’ of mean remarks. You ought to be 
above that, Sue.” 

Davy was not accustomed to being defended by 
Elizabeth, and she gave her a grateful glance. 

“After all,” said Sue, shrugging her shoulders, 
“ what’s the use of trying to be better than other 
folks ? Suppose I took such pains with myself that 
16 


242 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


I was fairly perfect, what good would it do ? The 
world in general would’t know anything about it ; one 
person can’t make a wonderful difference among so 
many; and I’d be lonesome enough, for I’d find 
nobody good enough to be friends with me.” 

Here C’list’an the irrepressible, who, from being 
constantly with Elizabeth, gave herself leave to enter 
into whatever was going on, broke forth : “ Well, 
there’s one good, to my mind, of trying to make the 
best of yourself, if you’re honest through and through 
with yourself, then at least you’ll have the satisfac- 
tion of knowing there’s one rascal less in thejvorld. 
I often tell my brother that, but he never makes 
much account of it, nor of anything else that I say. 
That boy’s terrible set on himself, an’ his opinions.” 

After Sue had gone, Davy sat near Elizabeth’s 
chair telling tales of college life, as she had already 
had glimpses of it, and asking questions about Dill- 
burg affairs. Ann was apparently reading a maga- 
zine. 

“ What are you smiling at, Ann ? ” asked Davy, 
after observing her for a while. “ Is your magazine 
so very delightful ? ” 

“ Smiling ? ” said Ann with a start, “ I didn’t know 
that I was smiling.” 

“ At least,” said Davy, “ you looked very well 
pleased.” 

“ Oh, as to that, I am pleased : it does me no 
end of good to see you two girls enjoying each 
other so well.” 

“That is all your doings, Ann,” said Elizabeth. 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— S A TISFIED. 


243 


“ Mine ? Why, how ? ” 

“ We used to enjoy each other about as much as 
a cat and a dog, before you came,” said Davy. 

“ But, girls, I think I never said one single word 
to you about your ways to one another,” said Ann. 

“No,” said Elizabeth, “you don’t often say much 
personally about any ill behavior. You lay down 
general principles that fit, and any person with the 
least sense can see how they apply.” 

“ Oh, there’s more than that,” said Davy, “ there’s 
a sort of evangelical influence about you, Ann, which, 
like music, soothes the savage breast ; and as nei- 
ther Elizabeth nor I are worse than ‘ rocks,’ or 
‘ knotted oaks,’ or ‘ things inanimate,’ we have been 
duly influenced by the sweet harmonies of your pres- 
ence, Miss Bradford.” 

Every day Davy seemed to find in Elizabeth more 
and more of a friend and a counsellor, and Elizabeth 
found in Davy a companion and source of fresh in- 
terest in life. 

Davy came back from doing some errands one 
day, and rushing at once to her sister began to de- 
tail her grievances. Her face was flushed, and her 
dark eyes flamed with anger. “ Elizabeth, I’m so 
furious at Sue Stryker ! I met her in a store, right 
in a store, mind you, with people about, and that 
talker of a Miss Adams was with her, too ! What 
do you think Sue said? ‘Well, Davy, I told Mrs. 
Stone how glad you were to have four college years 
before you, and she said — she’s so funny — Davy’ll 
never make me believe that it’s all books she’s 


244 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


after. I’ll warrant she spends her time parading the 
street, and flirting with boys — fifst thing Miss Brad- 
ford will hear is, Davy’s gone and got married.’ 
O Elizabeth, was there ever such a mean talker! 
They’ll gossip such stuff all over the town. Next 
thing I’ll hear is that I am married ! And Eliza- 
beth, it’s so mean to talk so of me. for I hate boys. 
At college I don’t think the young men students are 
to be compared with the girls ; they’re not nearly 
so smart in the classes, and they are not so good- 
looking. Then they are so vain of their new ties, 
and their little silly bits of moustaches, and if one of 
them gets a new watch, he parades it out to look at 
fifty times a day ! I don’t like them at all, com- 
pared to the girls ; and I don’t even talk to them, 
indeed I don’t ! ” 

“ Well,” said C’list’an, “ I’d like to box that Sue 
Stryker’s ears for her, that I would ; don’t you mind 
her, Davy, it is all meanness and jealousy that makes 
her talk.” 

Elizabeth began to laugh. “ If you mind Sue’s 
talk, Davy, you’ll have on your hands a large con- 
tract of worrying to do. What harm would it be if 
you did like the boy students, and have friends 
among them, and talk to them, if they are well- 
mannered and well-behaved ? Of course you have 
to talk to them, Davy, or seem very gloomy and 
awkward. What do you do at the college parties? ” 

“ I don’t talk much to those boys , I can tell you,” 
said Davy, with scorn. “ I like men to talk to ; 
men that know something. At the last party I 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— SATISFIED. 245 

talked ever so much to a gentleman named Mr. 
Rolf. I can tell you he is fine ! He’s travelled 
over half the world. He is one of the trustees ; he 
is not old, not very old ; his hair is just a little gray, 
and he has a daughter, he told me, nearly as old as 
I am.” 

“ What did you find to talk about to a man like 
that, Davy ? ” 

“ Oh, plenty of things ; about what I had studied, 
and what studies I liked best, and what I meant to 
make of myself, when my college course was finished, 
and what I had heard or seen this year in the city. 
Then we talked a great deal about Ann.” 

“ About Ann ! How did you bring her in ? ” 
cried Elizabeth. 

“ Easily ; he asked how I happened to come 
to that special college, and I told him Ann gradu- 
ated here, and did not seem to think of my 
going to any other college. Then I told him how 
I had longed to be educated, and how Ann was ar- 
ranging it, and what an elegant teacher she had 
been to me last year, making things so clear. I told 
him how Aunt Fontaine left Ann the money, and a 
whole family, and how mad I was, and meant to 
hate Ann, and when she came, I forgot it,” and 
Davy laughed merrily. 

“ I suppose,” said Elizabeth, in a vexed tone, 
“ you told him all about me too, and you know, Dave 
Tracy, I hate being talked about,” and Elizabeth 
looked much disturbed. Davy, however, was devel- 
oping that valuable quality— tact. She said : 


246 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ Of course, Elizabeth, I could hardly mention the 
family and not speak of you, when you are such a 
large part of all we have to care for. I did tell him 
how pretty you are and what a picture Ann makes 
of you, in your blue, pink and lavender and lace : 
I told him how quickly you learn, and all about 
your French, history, literature, and the clubs you 
and Ann have — he seemed so much interested, and 
wished he knew you.” Thus Elizabeth was pro- 
pitiated : but soon after forgot all about Mr. Rolf 
and his interest. 

August came and completed two years of Ann’s 
life in her Dillburg home. The anniversary of her 
coming was far from pleasant. Mr. Grace sent for 
her to come to his office. “ I have bad news for 
you, Miss Bradford. That Excelsior Company^ 
that your money’s in, has failed, and gone into a 
receiver’s hands, and is not likely to pay five cents 
on a dollar. It has pulled down the affairs of two 
whole counties, and more besides. No one had any 
idea of that company failing ; it seemed solid as a 
rock. You won’t get the hundred dollars that would 
be due presently. I’m very sorry about this, for I 
know that with all the engagements you have upon 
your hands, the loss of two hundred a year is a very 
serious matter. I think you were sailing as near 
the wind as you could get before.” 

“ It is a serious matter,” said Ann ; “ that two 
hundred dollars a year was my dependence for 
clothing for Davy and myself. I hope, Mr. Grace, 
I shall not hear such news about Elizabeth’s fortune, 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— SATISFIED. 247 

or Aunt Fontaine’s money, or poor little Arthur’s 
all.” 

“ No, you will not, unless the state and the 
general government go to pieces. I thought it 
better to tell you myself. I found it out last night 
through a business letter, and of course it will 
speedily be in all the papers.” 

“ Yes, but no one here knows I had any money in 
the Excelsior, and I think, as talking will not repair, 
my loss, I will not worry any one by speaking of it.” 

So Ann went home feeling very mournful. When 
she reached home, she took a walk all around her 
little territory, looking at house, barn, fences, 
garden ; then she went upstairs, opened her two 
closets, took out her clothes and spread them over 
bed and chairs, and, seated in the midst, contem- 
plated them fixedly. After a time she put them 
away, and went downstairs as if nothing had 
'happened. This was the time of the visit of Dorothy 
Camp and Dr. Helen Train at Mrs. Percy’s, and 
when Ann flrent downstairs she found Dr. Helen 
talking with Elizabeth. 

That evening Ann and Dr. Helen sat alone on 
the verandah, talking until late, their subject Eliza- 
beth. 

“ You’ve seen Elizabeth every day for two weeks, 
Doctor Helen ; tell me, have I any foundation for 
my hope that she may recover, at least so far as to 
leave her chair and walk a little, perhaps on 
crutches ? ” 

“ A few cures, a very few such, have been known.” 


248 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

“ Elizabeth has improved wonderfully in these two 
years.” 

“ That is in your favor.” 

“ I’d do anything for her, pay anything, get any 
advice I could hope to be helpful. To tell you the 
truth, I had a little capital which I meant to use for 
that purpose, if the time to require it came. I know 
such skilled treatment as she might need is costly. 
Unfortunately, I have lost the little capital on which 
that plan rested, and Elizabeth’s own money is 
completely tied up ; still, there is other money, and 
I should secure the wherewithal, if the end were in 
view. ” 

“I meant to study Elizabeth carefully,” said Dr. 
Helen, “ and then, in the course of my reading and 
practice, gather what knowledge of cures of such 
cases I could. The method, and the man and the 
means may all arrive together some day, Ann. Let 
us hope so, but do not say much of it to Elizabeth ; * 
‘ Hope deferred, maketh the heart sick,’ and who 
can bear the wound to the spirit that disappoint- 
ment brings ? ” 

A day or two later, Elizabeth had sent C’list’an 
out on some errands. “ Bring me a paper when 
you come back,” she said. 

Thus it happened that the detailed account of the 
bankruptcy of the Excelsior Company, with its ac- 
companiment of ruined fortunes and broken banks, 
fell into Elizabeth’s hands. As she read, she ex, 
claimed, “ Why, An*n, I am sure that you told me 
last spring that the last of your money from your 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— SATISFIED. 249 

father, the money that brought you two hundred a 
year, was in this Excelsior Company ! ” 

“ Yes, it was,” said Ann. 

“ And it is gone ! All lost ? ” 

“ I think there is no doubt of it,” said Ann slowly. 
Davy, who was reading, dropped her book, became 
pale, caught her breath, and turned a look of 
appealing terror on Ann. Ann understood. 

“ Don’t be frightened, Davy dear,” she said, 
calmly, “it will not make any difference to you. 
Your education money did not come out of that, 
you’ll go through college all the same. Nothing 
but your own loss of health, or ceasing to care to 
study, will stop your college course.” 

“ But, Ann, last year, when I started in, you had 
to retrench about the money, and Mr. Black, and 
here, with two hundred more gone ” said Davy. 

“ Never fear, we’ll manage it fine. Perhaps I can- 
not make as much change in your wardrobe.” 

“Never mind that, I’ll get on without another 
thing.” 

“Oh, not so bad as that, child,” said Ann. 

Elizabeth was thoughtful. Elizabeth’s mind had 
matured very rapidly, and Ann had made a con- 
fidential friend of her, explaining all her plans and 
affairs. This was partly to afford fresh interests to 
Elizabeth, and partly to help train her in business 
management. Elizabeth understood the case better 
than Davy, who brightened up, and went away satis- 
fied, to dine with one of her girl friends. 

“ How do you mean to do it, Ann ? ” asked Eliza- 


250 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


beth, when they were alone. “ I knew you were try- 
ing to economize closely, and two hundred makes 
quite a hole in the income.” Elizabeth knew all about 
the four hundred a year on that unhappy debt, yet to 
be paid for two years. Neither she nor Ann felt the 
money for the church and the little Hindoo girl any 
burden — that was cheerfully given to the Lord ; as 
much as that would have been given anyway, be- 
sides helping with the regular contributions. Eliza- 
beth now kept these contributions in mind, and 
regularly sent her envelope of donation as they came 
around. 

“ Well,” said Ann, slowly, in answer to Elizabeth, 
“ I have not fully made up my mind how I can 
stretch out the rest that we have, to cover the hole 
made by this deficiency. As I said, Davy will per- 
haps have less dress, and what I had proposed was 
little enough for the child. For myself, I have taken 
stock of my goods on hand, and will not get a thing 
but a pair of shoes for myself for a year to come. 
I may have to dispense with Mr. Black entirely, and 
have Arthur do what he can of his work. I hate to 
think of that, Mr. Black is such a reliance ! Prob- 
ably Arthur will have to wait another year before he 
goes to fitting school. I had hoped to send him a 
year from now, but he is young, and if I can get 
really fine instruction for him here, he will do as 
well. How do I know but the Lord will send to 
me so accomplished a teacher here, that I should 
not care to send Arthur elsewhere this year, nor 
next?” 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— SATISFIED. 251 

“ Still, the beginning of losses alarms one about 
everything ! ” 

“ Do not feel that way, Elizabeth, nor allow your- 
self to be anxious. You remember that the fullness 
of the earth is the Lord’s, and he has said, Trust 
in the Lord and do good, and dwell in the land, and 
verily thou shalt be fed. And again, ‘ Bread shall 
be given thee, and water shall be sure.’ 1 In the 
time of famine thou shalt he satisfied.’ You and I, 
Elizabeth, have received too much kind care from 
God, to doubt his love or ability to provide. You 
were frail in health, and your grandfather was 
enabled to lay up an assured competence for you. 
As for me, I have had bread to eat that my fathers 
knew not of. No one expected that I should have 
Aunt Fontaine’s property. I was only a grand- 
niece by a half-brother, you and Davy were grand- 
nieces by a full sister. Arthur was nearer than any 
of us to Uncle Fontaine. It so happened that my 
age, robust health, and my education, made Aunt Fon- 
taine consider me the proper trustee of her property, 
her business, and her family claims. It had never 
been among my expectations. There is always 
plenty for us, dear Elizabeth, in the fullness of God. 
If God sees fit to take away property, it may be 
only to draw us closer in dependence upon himself. 
We can be sure of one thing, that the richness of 
the word of God will never be less to us, nor denied 
to us ; we can feast upon that in its fullness, the 
water of life is ours for taking : the word and prayer 
are always ours ; plenty for our pilgrim way. Then, 


252 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


we are journeying on to that land where there shall 
be no lack of any good thing to those who love the 
Lord. 

“ ‘ O Christ, he is the fountain, 

The deep sweet well of love ; 

The streams on earth I’ve tasted. 

More deep I’ll drink above. 

There to an ocean fullness 
His goodness doth expand, 

Where glory, glory, dwelleth, 

In Immanuel’s land.”’ 

“ You can really feel all that, Ann ? ” asked 
Elizabeth. 

“ Yes, now : I have had a day or two to get ac- 
customed to this, to find out where I am, to remem- 
ber what my God is, and I have at last behaved and 
quieted myself, as a child that is weaned of his 
mother. You see, Elizabeth, that this little loss is so 
small compared to what might have been. Suppose 
you had been taken very ill ; or the house burned 
up ; or Arthur had gone far astray into some evil ; 
or Davy had met with some terrible accident. 
Suppose a hundred things that might have hap- 
pened, all so much worse than what has happened ! ” 

“ Well, that is a good way to look at it. Mean- 
while, Ann, I mean to provide all Davy’s books and 
clothes this year. So let that be off your mind. 
Maybe we can retrench some other way too. Give 
me my tablets, please ; I mean to run over our 
expenses and see what I make of them. There’s 
wages — and fuel— and ” 


IN TIME OF FAMINE— SATISFIED. 253 

“ Don't forget the taxes, and the insurance, with 
the rest,” said Ann, smiling, as Elizabeth, her pretty 
forehead wrinkled in her earnestness, began to 
marshal the array of household outlays, in firm fig- 
ures upon her tablet. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


CLOTHED UPON. 

“ And they who with their Leader 
Have conquered in the fight, 

Forever and forever, 

Are clad in robes of white.” 

Again Davy was made ready for college ; this 
time Elizabeth provided the outfit, taking great 
interest in it, and denying herself several gratifica- 
tions, in order to have the more money for Davy. 
Ann said nothing, but observed closely, and consid- 
ered that as the spiritual is of far higher price than 
the temporal, the loss of two hundred a year, was not 
to be regretted, if it had run its ploughshare through 
the selfish soil of Elizabeth’s nature, and made it 
ready to bring forth fruits of righteousness. 

Davy went valiantly off alone. Ann had meant 
to go with her, treating herself to a visit to her 
Alma Mater , where were yet lingering those who 
had been Freshmen and Sophomores when she 
graduated. However, retrenchment was the order 
of the day, and with Ann retrenchments began very 
closely at home ; the matter of Mr. Black was yet in 
abeyance, at least he was needed until fall work was 
done. 


254 


CLOTHED UPON. 


255 

“ What are you pondering over, Elizabeth ? ” asked 
Ann. “ Lonely without our Davy ? ” 

“ Yes, I miss Davy, she is real good company, 
but I was not thinking of her — I’m so sorry, Ann, 
that you could not go with her. You wanted to, I 
know, you have been here for two years, without 
going anywhere.” 

“ Bless your heart, Elizabeth, I’m not pining over 
it,” said Ann, “ as soon as I made up my mind that 
it was better not to go, that ended it. Why resolve 
on a thing and then fret over it ? ” 

“ But it was such a sacrifice.” 

“ Oh, not at all,” said Ann, speaking truthfully. 
Ann’s was a thoroughly maternal nature, she needed 
those about her to love and care for ; this maternal 
lovingness she had fixed on Elizabeth, Davy and 
Arthur — and mother-fashion whatever was done for 
them was no burden. As says Thomas a Kempis, 
“ He that loveth is free, not bound. Love feels no 
burden, thinks nothing a trouble.” 

“ Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ don’t fret yourself over 
this little financial disaster. You know last year and 
year before, I was laying up a little income, a re- 
serve for the more expensive time, when Davy and 
Arthur would both be away in college. Now if I 
cannot have a margin, you and I must not fret : 
when more is needed more may come. ‘The Lord 
will provide.’ ‘ The Lord knoweth what things we 
have need of, before we ask him.’ What he takes 
away with one hand, he gives with the other. That 


256 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

is a good word : ‘ God which fed me all my life long, 
unto this day.’ ” 

“ It is not comfortable to be pinched and worried, 
Ann.” 

“ Oh, that depends upon ourselves, let us ignore 
the pinching and refuse to be worried ! There are 
elements of good in our loss. I have felt very happy 
to see how you were developing in unselfishness, 
and in thought for others. It did me good to see 
you so pleasantly managing and striving in Davy’s 
behalf, never once making her feel burdensome.” 

“ I took a leaf out of your book, Ann ; I thought 
if I had put myself in your place, I would try to fill 
it as graciously as you do,” said Elizabeth, with a 
little flush of pleasure. 

“ Thank you, my dear,” and now it was Ann’s 
turn to be pleased. 

“ At least, Elizabeth, let us try to get all the good 
we can out of small disasters. That was a sorry 
bewailing over Israel, that the east wind had dried 
up her fruit ! If the east wind of trial dries up the 
fruitage of our lives, then they are but frail summer 
fruits at best, and not of a good keeping variety. 
When losses make people stingy, sour, faithless, 
moody, then surely ‘ this is a lamentation and shall 
be for a lamentation ’.” 

“ All the same,” said Elizabeth, “ I would really 
be glad if troubles never came, they don’t seem to 
agree with me, somehow ! ” 

“ Dear child,” said Ann, pitifully, “ that is prob- 
ably because you have a heavy enough trouble all 


CLOTHED UPON. 


257 


the time ; but take courage, Elizabeth, this is the 
atmosphere God’s children need sometimes to make 
them grow. Egypt is a soft south land, but the 
hills of Palestine lie to the northward, and Hermon 
is white with snow. In the ‘ Shepherd of Hermas ’ it 
is written : — 1 For this world is as winter to righteous 
men ; but the world to come is as summer to the 
righteous.’ ” 

The household had just fallen into its old routine, 
after the going out of Davy, when one afternoon 
Maggie came up to Ann’s room with a card, and a 
letter of introduction. 

“ I did not hear any one at the door,” said Ann. 

“ He’s a very genile gentleman, and he pulled the 
bell as judgmatically, and spoke as soft, as if he 
knew all about Miss Elizabeth and her afternoon 
nap. He’s in the lib’ry.” 

“ Tell him I will come down, in a minute,” said 
Ann, opening the note of introduction. It was from 
her honored college gresident, introducing Mr. 
Rolf, one of the board of trustees. Ann went 
downstairs, wondering where she had heard of Mr. 
Rolf. The “ fine looking man, with a little gray in 
his hair,” of whom Davy had told Elizabeth, rose to 
greet Ann. “ I may claim acquaintance with Miss 
Davy Tracy as well as with our good President,” he 
said. “ I feel as if I knew you very well, Miss 
Bradford, not only through Miss Davy, but from 
Dr. Helen Train, and the professors.” 

“ Any one who knows my dear college people is 
doubly welcome,” said Ann. 
i7 


258 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

“ I come in haste, to ask a great favor, to have it, 
I hope, granted, and then be gone. I have a daugh- 
ter of fourteen, whom I wish to place in your care. 
Let me tell my story — I have now but two children, 
a son in Yale, Rufus, nineteen years old, and this 
Emily, fourteen. I had four others, a girl between 
these two, and three younger. I lost those four within 
a month, of scarlet fever. My wife has never recov- 
ered from the shock ; she has been, for over a year, 
in a sanitarium for nervous patients. I had Emily 
in a boarding school last year, and it did not agree 
with her. She became nervous and depressed, she 
needs more quiet, more genial personal attention, 
a home , home friendship; she cannot keep up with 
classes, she needs instruction as she can bear it, in- 
struction mingled with pleasure, with out-of-door 
life — I have been up in the Adirondacks this sum- 
mer with Rufus and Emily. Now Emily is still 
unfit for school, I am called abroad by my business. 
Doctor Helen Train suggested that yours would be 
the very home for Emily ; she wants some one to be 
to her, friend, older sister, companion, skilled guard- 
ian, rather than schoolmistress. Miss Davy told 
me last June how ‘ apt’ you are to teach, and how 
people thrive under your charge ; and what a happy 
home you have made for other homeless strays.” 

“Oh, perhaps Davy is too partial,” said Ann, 
overcome. 

“ I’ll risk it, willingly. I should want Emily here 
the year round — I can pay five hundred a year for 
her. Will that be a fair equivalent for what I ask ? 


CLOTHED UPON. 


2 59 


Can you decide at once ? I need to return this 
afternoon, and I must sail in a week. Will you 
consent ? ” 

Ann thought — “ The train back will not be here 
for two hours and a half. Give me two hours to 
think. I w'ant to talk to Elizabeth — I never spring 
things on Elizabeth, we talk them over together,” 
she said. 

“ I will return punctually in two hours,” said Mr. 
Rolf. 

Ann accompanied him to the door. As she closed 
it after him, C’list’an opened Elizabeth’s door : 
“ She thinks she heard a strange voice,” said 
C’list’an, “ and it made her fidgety. She wants to 
know all about it.” 

“As she is awake I’ll come in ; I have something 
to talk over with her,” said Ann. 

It was not hard to recall Mr. Rolf to Elizabeth’s 
mind, as Davy had mentioned him to her more than 
once. 

“ Five hundred dollars, — whooo ! ” said Elizabeth, 
“ that will add a big slice to your income.” 

“ It seems a true providence — so utterly unex- 
pected.” 

“ One sick person seems to be enough in a house,” 
said Elizabeth. 

“ I fancy she is not really sick, Elizabeth.” 

“ She may be a real terror, cross, nervous, fretty, 
worse than I am, by a great deal. She may half 
kill you, Ann.” 

“ Let us hope not. Think how unfortunate she is. ” 


26 o 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ And you could keep Mr. Black, and not econo- 
mize as closely as we thought of. She will not be 
much expense, extra, but much care.’' 

“ She might need a deal of my time, and make 
things less pleasant for you, Elizabeth.” 

“ I might hate her — that’s a fact.” 

“ Oh my, no ! If she proved uncongenial, at 
least, on her behalf, you could cultivate the lovely 
plant of charity in your heart.” 

“ She could have Davy’s room,” said Elizabeth. 
“Yes; and she might be far enough advanced to 
share in your studies, and that might be pleasant 
for you.” 

“ I don’t think it would. I hate sharing,” said 
Elizabeth. 

“ Oh, as Christians, we must be willing to distrib- 
ute. Christ gave himself ; we must give as we 
can. On our way toward the Glory Gate, Elizabeth, 
we must be clothed upon with all graces, so we shall 
‘ be meet for the inheritance of the saints in light.’ 
If you truly hate sharing, Emily may help you to 
overcome an evil.” 

“ Some folks like to hug their evil to their hearts, 
Ann.” 

“Not you, dear Elizabeth, I see you constantly 
growing in grace.” 

“ And what will you do about Emily ? ” 

“ Take her, I think. The responsibility will be 
great ; but I have not sought it. It seems to be of 
the Lord’s sending. Will you see Mr. Rolf, when 
he comes back, Elizabeth ? ” 


CLOTHED UPON. 


261 


“ Did he ask to see me ? ” 

“ No ; and I think he would not. All the same, 
I feel sure that he would like to see you, and you 
would enjoy seeing him.” 

“ Well, I’ll see him.” 

“ Miss Bradford, if you take that girl,” spoke up 
C’list’an, “ I’ll keep her room in order, and do her 
mending. I have time ; I’d just as lief as not.” 

“Thank you, C’list’an, you are very kind to help 
us out with our new burdens.” 

“ Odd, isn’t it, how things help out all around, 
circle after circle,” said Elizabeth; “there was my 
washerwoman wishing so much for just one more 
person’s washing; now she can have it.” 

“ I’m always so glad, Elizabeth, to see you re- 
membering and planning for other people, it makes 
one’s life so much fuller and larger.” 

“There comes Mr. Rolf back, and it is not nearly 
the two hours yet,” said Elizabeth, who, as her win- 
dows afforded most of the small variety of her life, 
seldom allowed anything to escape her notice. Ann 
went to the door. 

“ I should be glad for you to see Elizabeth, Mr. 
Rolf ; as your time is so limited, will you come to 
her room at once.” 

“ And what have you two decided ? ” asked Mr. 
Rolf. 

“ Ann has decided to say ‘yes,’ ” said Elizabeth. 

“ That is good. Now, Miss Bradford, there are 
but few minutes for the final arrangements. Emily 
needs to drive much, she must have much exercise, 


262 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


and cannot walk far. I see you have a barn. Is 
there room there for a horse and surrey ? I should 
like to send mine here. Send me the fodder bill. 
Can I find a man to see to the horse ? ” 

“ I keep a man, who will take the charge as part 
of his work — I have had a conveyance until lately,” 
said Ann. 

“ Good. Dr. Helen Train is Emily’s physician ; 
if you need any medical advice write to her, or even 
take Emily to her. I must leave a week from to- 
day. Can you come to the city for Emily ? I 
should like you to see her and Doctor Helen, and I 
have not time to come here again.” 

“Now, Ann, you can get that trip ! ” cried Eliza- 
beth, joyfully. 

“What is that?” asked Mr. Rolf. 

“ Ann wanted so much to go to the city for a few 
days, but could not afford it ; she saves on herself, 
so as to have plenty for Davy and Arthur. Now 
she can go.” 

“ When I see you in the city, Miss Bradford, I 
will settle the half-year’s bill, and the travelling ex- 
penses. I want Emily to write every week, and 
should be glad of a report from you once a month. 
Good-bye to you both now; and, Miss Elizabeth, I 
hope you’ll find my little girl congenial.” 

“ How nice it was,” cried Elizabeth, when Mr. 
Rolf had gone, “ that Davy thought to talk about 
you at the commencement party ! ” 

“ Yes, though only a child so little used to society 
would have done it.” 


CLOTHED UPON. 263 

“And what a good thing that Dr. Train is this 
girl’s doctor, and spoke of this piace for her ! ” 

“Yes-s-s,” said Ann, slowly, “and how much 
pleasanter still it is, Elizabeth, to look beyond all 
these secondary causes, and see that First Cause of 
all, who plans every good thing for me, in the heart 
of his fatherly love.” 

“ Yes, that is so, of course,” said Elizabeth, “but 
naturally, I think people refer their comforts or their 
troubles to the causes seen and nearest, rather than 
at once to God.” 

“ Then we should cultivate the fine habit of see- 
ing always the Great Source of all.” 

“ I think, Ann, it is because you cultivate such 
habits of thinking, that you seem always to live on 
a higher level than most folks.” 

“ O Elizabeth ! I hope I don’t seem to be dis- 
tant and selfish ! ” 

“ Not at all ; but your method of thinking keeps 
you in a position to inspire respect, and that is very 
good for people. I read this morning that Madame 
de Swetchine said, ‘ Respect is a serious thing to 
him who feels it, and the height of honor to him 
who inspires it.’ ” 

“ All the same,” said Ann, “ I am humiliated to 
realize that I do not inspire as much respect as I 
should wish to do in some quarters. For instance, 
I cannot keep C’list’an in proper bounds of speech, 
and Sue Stryker has no more regard for me than 
for a dandelion or a sparrow.” 

“ Those two are incorrigible,” laughed Elizabeth. 


264 TO IV A RD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

At this moment Arthur, just returned from school, 
came into the hall. Ann having fixed her eyes on 
him, rather by accident than intention, perceived a 
certain sudden and curious change in his configura- 
tion, and being quick of thought, instantly made up 
her mind that an unusual protuberance under the 
laddie’s arm meant a dime novel on its way up to his 
room. Devious are the ways of the natural boy ; 
but over this Ann did not repine, she considered that 
he is very well worth bringing up. The novel cer- 
tainly must not be read until Ann had looked it over, 
and to look it over undoubtedly meant to condemn. 
To challenge the secreting of the work in the pres- 
ence of Elizabeth and C’list’an would never do : in 
fact, to bring Arthur to self-conquest, to freely report 
the matter himself, that was the way to make him 
strong. Evidently, the first affair was to delay the 
hiding of the new literature in Arthur’s room or the 
attic. 

“ Come in here, Arthur, here is some family news 
for you 1 ” 

“ Arthur, we’re going to have one more in our 
family,” said Elizabeth. 

“Arthur, what do you think of having ahorse and 
a surrey again, and being able to go to the woods 
Saturdays ?” said Ann. 

At these words Elizabeth gloomed a little, for 
the surrey was a something that she could not enjoy, 
and she could never reconcile herself to the days in 
the woods, pleasures which she was unable to share. 
At hearing Ann’s words Arthur wanted much to in- 


CLOTHED UPON. 265 

dulge in a handspring or two, but was withheld by 
— circumstances. 

“ Ann is going to the city, day after to-morrow, 
to stay for four days,” said Elizabeth, rallying. 

“ And I am going to have Elizabeth make out a 
list of things that she wants, and pay her back 
fifteen of the forty-five dollars she laid out on Davy, 
and spend them for her.” 

“ But what’s up ? What has happened ? Where’s 
the money coming from ? I thought money was 
scarce here,” cried Arthur. 

“ Ann’s got a boarding-pupil for five hundred 
a year, she is to get her in the city — pay in advance 
— about your age, Arthur.” 

“O, jimminy crickets, why couldn’t it have been 
a boy ? I’d like a boy. Why are there so many 
more girls than boys always ? ” 

“ A boy,” said Ann, “ might have done very 
well, if he was sure to be kind, helpful and obedient, 
as you are, Arthur. Your influence on a boy would 
be, I hope, very good. You have never deceived 
me, you don’t sneak off to do things I would not 
like. If you could help a boy to be honest, straight- 
forward, and manly, such as you have always showed 
yourself, it would be very nice to have another boy 
in our house, and good for the boy.” Here Arthur 
blushed furiously, so that his ears were scarlet. 
“ However, it isn’t a boy, and you must be satisfied 
with a girl.” 

“ If she turns out a nice girl, I’ll be glad she’s not 
a boy,” said Elizabeth. 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


266 

“ And I hope you’ll get her to play out-of-door 
games with you, Arthur, she may be as good com- 
pany as Davy,” added Ann. 

“ And you’re going to be gone four or five days, 
Ann ? ” asked Arthur. 

“Yes: you’ll have to take part of my place, 
Arthur, in helping Elizabeth, and keeping her from 
being lonesome. I am so glad that I have always 
been able to trust you, Arthur ; I can go away feel- 
ing quite at ease. Arthur, what would you like to 
get from the city ? Perhaps you want something to 
amuse you, a game or an interesting book. You 
may find dull times that you want to fill up with 
something entertaining.” 

“ I haven’t any money, my allowance has all gone. 
I got that set of pencils and so on, when school 
began.” 

“ Oh, I feel so uncommonly rich I can allow you 
two dollars, Arthur ; so think up what you want 
most.” 

“I will, thank you, Cousin Ann. There, I must 
go wash my hands, it’s nearly tea-time.” Arthur 
disappeared, and the secreted book was no longer 
dimly in evidence when he came back. That even- 
ing, swinging in the hammock with Arthur, Ann led 
the way to talk of what he wanted her to bring him ; 
of some few new books she hoped to buy, and soon 
of books and reading and their effect, their potency 
in building up or tearing down character. 

“There are many insects and various creeping 
things, Arthur, which take the color of the plants 


CLOTHED UPON. 


267 

they live upon. The mind takes the color of the 
books which we habitually read : books sceptical, or 
profane, false, cruel or filthy, or simply silly and 
frivolous, produce such characteristics in our minds. 
Books good, true, noble, wise, elevate our minds 
and make us capable of high deeds. Ruskin said 
he owed all that was worthy in his mind, all his 
ability to help and instruct others, to the good read- 
ing provided for him by his mother, beginning with 
the Bible. No nation is more famous than the 
Scotch for industry, integrity, skill in labor, business 
faithfulness, power to accumulate fortune. Simply 
to be a Scot is in itself a certain recommendation : 
there are great firms and companies which employ 
only Scotchmen, feeling that thus they are better 
served. A deep thinker has said, that much of this 
fine helpful character is due to the early and con- 
stant study of the Bible, especially the book of 
Proverbs and the Gospel of John. These were 
long used as reading books in Scotch schools. I 
hope, Arthur, that whenever you think of reading a 
book, you will ask yourself if you would dare read 
it aloud , even by yourself, and if you would like to 
have your life moulded by that book.” 

“ Ann,” said Arthur, hesitating a little. “ I got a 
book from a boy to-day, that I guess you’d not 
think much of.” 

“ Why, I haven’t seen such a book, where is it ? ” 
“ Oh, well — I — didn’t parade it, you know. I 
knew you’d be down on it. ” 

“ Oh,” said Ann, blankly. 


268 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


“You see that fellow I got it of, he bragged so of 
it.” 

“ How much have you read of it ? ” 

“Well, none. Only the cover shows Boomerang 
Dick — that’s the hero it’s named for — firing a 
pistol, and carrying off a girl on horseback, and the 
first page begins how he ran off with the girl and 
shot her uncle and cousin, and they called him the 
“Terror of Long County,” and at the wind-up he 
is in a bar-room where he wiped out five or six 
men.” 

“ Oh,” said Ann, in the same blank tone as be- 
fore. Then — “ It seems to me such a wretch is fit 
only for hanging. How would you like him for a 
friend or companion ? ” 

“ Not a bit ! ” exclaimed Arthur. 

“ Then why go as far as you can toward com- 
panionship, by reading a book about him ? A de- 
graded mind must have produced that book, and 
your mind will be more or less degraded, when you 
make it a part of your memories.” 

“You see, that boy wanted three elegant alley 
taws of mine, and he wanted to trade the book for 
them, and at last I did, he bragged so of it.” 

“ Oh, then you own the book ? Elizabeth had a 
shelf full of books that were simply silly, and we 
concluded to burn them up. I can see a great im- 
provement in Elizabeth’s mind, since she gave up 
such reading. I don’t object to stories, stories with 
fine quality in them. You know I provide them for 
you, and I had hoped to give you such a taste for 


CLOTHED UPON. 


269 

high-toned reading, that you would not seek any other. 
Now, Arthur, if this is the first trash book or vile book 
that has come in your way, you stand in a critical 
place. If you read it, you may begin your mental 
ruin ; if you reject it, on principle, you may make 
sure of a mind apt for great affairs. That is a 
good old proverb, ‘ Let every man sweep his own 
door stone if he wants a clean world.’ We are 
here to build up character, and our first duty to our- 
selves is, to admit no elements of demoralization. 
What are you going to do about it ? ” 

“ Well, Ann, I mean to — burn that book up.” 

“ Let’s have a little bonfire to celebrate your 
victory. Get the book, and there are four or five 
empty paint kegs behind the barn, and, as a special 
favor, you may have that quart of tar in the tar- 
keg.” 

“ Goody for you. Where’ll we have it ? ” 

“ Out in the road — but let us wait half an 
hour, to be pretty sure that driving by is about 
done.” 

“ Well,” said Arthur with a long breath, “ I feel 
sort of relieved about that book, I wasn’t real 
settled over it. I’m glad we talked it over, Cousin 
Ann.” 

“ There is nothing safer for a boy than to have 
some good woman who cares for him, to talk over 
all his affairs with confidentially, a mother or older 
sister first of all. As you have no mother, or grand- 
mother, or sister, Arthur, and I am the only woman- 
friend God has provided for you, it would really be 


270 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


for your highest good to talk over your affairs freely 
with me. I’ll do the best I can for you.” 

“ I’m sure your best is plenty good enough, 
Cousin Ann,” said Arthur, gallantly. “ I think you 
have that high kind of character you talk of. Now 
where does one get it ? ” 

“ The method is plain enough, laddie. Every one 
has an example and a rule for attaining that high, 
fine character, which, like gold, will stand the test 
of fire. The example is — our Lord and Redeemer ; 
our rule, the Bible.” 

When Arthur had prepared the kegs and tar for 
his bonfire, he brought his book and matches for 
lighting it. “ Don’t you look at it at all, Cousin 
Ann,” he said, with an embarrassed laugh. “ I’m 
already as ashamed of it as I can be.” 

He and Ann stood to watch the blaze. “ We are 
told,” said Ann, “ that the new Christians of Ephesus 
gave evidence of their righteous intentions, by 
bringing their books of magic and idolatry, and 
burning them in the market-place. Many bonfires 
have been made of Bibles, by Bible haters, many 
good books have been set ablaze. If purity and 
the love of goodness reigned everywhere, every 
town would have bonfires of such books as this, 
and worse books, until all print was purified, and 
only the worthy remained.” 

Arthur slept well that night, but Ann lay long 
awake, pondering that as eternal vigilance is the 
price of liberty, so is it the price of bringing up a 
boy, to be a worthy man. She was tempted to con- 


CLOTHED UPON. 


27 1 

sider it a miracle, that there were any good men 
extant ! 

A day of preparation, and then a day when Ann 
set off for her college home, unseen for two years. 
Ann was a girl easily satisfied ; glad and thankful 
for small favors; she took as much pleasure in this 
short trip, as some girls would find in a trip to 
Europe. Dorothy, Dr. Helen, lovely Clotilde 
Arblay, and charming Grace Dare were seen. 
Sara Fordyce had come to the city to hear a famous 
Englishman lecture, and at the lecture Ann met her. 
The few days were filled to the full with happiness, 
and then with her new charge, a fair, delicate, silent 
girl, who, while still on the verge of childhood, had 
evidently dwelt with sorrow, sharing sorrow’s cup ; 
but she was still so young that Ann felt sure that 
sorrow would prove no “ bosom friend and half of 
life,” but as the shadow of a cloud, that slowly 
drifts away. Ann had expected that parting with 
her father, for a long trip, would renew Emily’s 
grief, but she took that as a matter of course — he 
had often gone before. As for Ann, Emily ac- 
cepted her calmly, and sat silently beside her on 
the ride to Dillburg. Ann never took people by 
storm, she was too commonplace — she grew upon 
them like the dawning day — which is also common- 
place. 

With Elizabeth it was a very different affair : 
Elizabeth’s chair was turned so that she could see 
down the road, she was watching eagerly and had 
been arrayed in her prettiest ; the soft pink wrapper 


272 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


lent a dainty glow to her face, the little golden rip- 
ples of her hair lay on brow and pillow, her throat 
shone white as pearl from the lace ruffles about it. 
Emily looked at her in pensive silence for a while, 
then she knelt on an ottoman by Elizabeth’s side. — 
“ Oh, you are so sweet , just like my sister Belle, 
who died ; and she would have been just your age 
now ! I am so glad I am going to live where you 
are ! I loved Belle so much, I cannot tell you how 
much — more than all the rest of the world ! Do 
you know, I wish so that I knew about her now, 
where she is, what she looks like, what she is doing, 
Does she change ? Oh, if I only knew ! ” 

Elizabeth’s Longfellow lay near her chair, she 
opened it, and read, — 

“Not as a child shall we again behold her, 

But when with rapture wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child ; 

But a fair maiden in her Father’s mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace, 

And beautiful with all the soul’s expansion 
Shall we behold her face.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE KING’S HIGHWAY. 

“ And the sunlit land that recks not 
Of tempest or of fight ; 

Shall fold within its bosom 
Each happy Israelite.” 

One of Ann Bradford’s strong points was her 
ability to let well enough alone. There was a cer- 
tain calmness about her which did not hasten, but, 
quietly observing all, made sure of the need and 
safety of each step before she took it. “ I will wait 
to hear.” Ann had often made that her motto in 
days of carefulness. Now when she had brought 
Emily Rolf to her home, knowing that the charge 
might become heavy, she simply left Emily to 
adjust herself to her new surroundings, and as the 
way Emily spontaneously elected was to devote her- 
self to Elizabeth, Ann was well suited with that, and 
waited before inaugurating anything on her part ; 
it was probably best, in Emily’s case, not to seem to 
expect anything of her. 

Therefore Ann unpacked Emily’s trunk, set her 
bureau and closet in order, and summoned her to 
supper, as quietly as if she had always been a part 
of their life. Elizabeth also was to be considered, 
18 273 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


274 

and must not tax and excite herself in behalf of her 
new ally. 

“ Away to bed with you, girlie,” said Ann to 
Emily, at eight o’clock, “ our Elizabeth goes to bed 
with the chickens, and it takes half an hour to get 
her there. Sleep well.” 

Elizabeth had been accustomed always to rest 
upon others ; to be comforted, not to comfort. Now 
a new role was thrust upon her ; Emily looked to her 
as a comforter. 

Next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, 
Emily was hanging about Elizabeth’s chair, and Ann 
kept out of the way, ignoring the usual readings in 
French and literature. 

“ Show me the verses you read to me last night 
Elizabeth, they kept ringing in my head before I 
went to sleep, in broken words and meanings, you 
know, I couldn’t get them right.” 

“ There’s the whole poem,” said Elizabeth, — 
“ ‘ Resignation.’ ” 

Emily drew a hassock near Elizabeth, and read. 
“ I love poetry,” she said, “ and flowers and pic- 
tures and beautiful things. So did my Belle. Belle 
and I lived in a little world of beauty, all to our- 
selves. It seems to me, now that I look back, that 
we were in a fairyland, all full of golden light, and 
when Belle was gone, all was gone ; there was no 
joy, no beauty any more. Don’t you wish there was 
no dying ? Then this world would be a happy 
one.” 

Elizabeth shook her head. “Wouldn’t it be over- 


THE KING'S HIGHWA Y. 


2 75 


crowded ? It would be a terrible crush and fight 
for standing-room, or leave to move, such as I have 
read of in a burning theatre, where hundreds were 
crushed to death, or trampled down. You wouldn’t 
think this a nice world, if all the Neros and Robes- 
pierres and Philips the II., had lived forever. 
Where could you and I hide from them ? ” 

“But — I shouldn’t have lost Belle.” 

“It is, after all, like a going away to school, or off 
on a long trip, isn’t it ? She might have gone to 
Europe for a journey, only then you might fear to 
hear bad news of her, that she was sick or unhappy ; 
now you know she is where nothing can mar her 
happiness.” 

“ I should think — she’d want me — I want her.” 

“Very likely she is surprised that you do not 
understand it all better, how happy and well off she 
is, and how short the years will seem until you join 
her, ‘ as a dream when one awaketh.’ I read in our 
missionary club of two sisters, nearly of an age, 
who on the same day married, each a missionary. 
They had hoped to go to the same field, but could 
not, one went to India, the other to Africa, and so 
years went on, thirty years and more, before they 
met again. Of course they wrote to each other; 
you cannot write to Belle ; but, on the other hand, 
each knew that the other was exposed to sickness, 
death, sorrows, you know that is not so about Belle. 
Did you ever read Tennyson’s ‘Grandmother’? 
When she is told her son is dead, she says — 


TO W A RD THE G LOR Y G A TE. 


276 

“ So Willie has gone, my beauty, my eldest born, my flower, 
But how can I weep for Willie ? he has but gone for an hour. 
Gone for a minute, my son, from this room into the next, 

I, too, shall go in a minute, what time have I to be vexed ? ” 

“ I never heard any one speak of these things in 
this way before,” said Emily. “ Aren’t you afraid of 
dying, Elizabeth ? ” 

“ Not now ; I was, and I told Ann about it, and 
since then we have talked of it so much, that it does 
not seem any terrible, unnatural thing, but just easy, 
right, and beautiful. Ann says people live longer 
and more comfortably, if they have no quarrel with 
death ; and we have read together all that the 
Bible has to say about the world to come. After 
we finished 4 Pilgrim’s Progress,’ on Sunday after- 
noons, our ‘ Pilgrim Class ’ took up that study 
about the world to come, ‘ The Paradise of God.’ 
We have also read together some poems and other 
writings about it; that poem ‘ Jerusalem the 
Golden,’ or ‘ The Celestial Country,’ and ‘ The 
Sands of Time are Sinking.’ You must read those, 
Emily, and the last pages of the first and second 
parts of ‘ Pilgrim’s Progress.’ Mrs. Percy told me 
something that I liked much. She said once when 
she was very young, she was going home from Sun- 
day-school, and walked along through the grave- 
yard that lay around the church. It had first been 
laid out by Germans, and over the gate was an arch, 
and on it, 4 God’s Acre,’ the German name for a 
burial-place. All was still and green there, violets 
and dandelions and buttercups bloomed in the grass ; 


THE KING'S HIGH W A V 


2 77 


birds flew about singing ; she sat down on a grave 
and looked around. A piece of paper was slipped 
into a crack in a white stone near her ; she pulled 
it out and read : ‘ Then they are glad because they 
are quiet ; so he bringeth them unto their desired 
haven.’ She thought it meant dead people, and it 
gave her a new view of death, that never left her, 
and though some years after she found the text re- 
ferred especially to sailors on the sea, she never 
failed to associate it with going out of this world.” 

“ If I could only feel that Belle, and the three 
dear, cunning little ones that we lost would be ours 
again, Elizabeth ! ” 

“ Did you ever read this, Emily ? 

“ ‘ I stand amid the eternal ways 

And what is mine shall know my face. 

“ * Asleep, awake, by night or day, 

The friends I seek are seeking me ; 

No wind can drive my bark astray, 

Nor change the tide of destiny. 

“ ‘ The stars come nightly to the sky, 

The tidal waves unto the sea, 

Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, 

Can keep my own away from me.’ ” 

“You know so many lovely, comfortable things,” 
said Emily, with a sigh of content, “ you make me 
feel better.” 

Ann, from the library, or the verandah, or other- 
where, heard the two talking, and perceived that 
they were helping each other. Emily would will- 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


278 

ingly have remained indoors all the time, talking 
retrospectively, reading poetry, and yielding to the 
current of her emotions, but that was not Ann’s 
method of bringing up a girl to useful womanhood. 
The horse and surrey had come, and over the hills, 
and out into the woods, Emily must go. Elizabeth 
yielded to the inevitable more graciously than Ann 
had feared that she would. 

“ I am bound to do my best for Emily,” Ann 
said to Elizabeth, “she needs out-of-door life to 
build her up in physical strength.” 

“ I never have out of doors,” sighed Elizabeth. 

“ I know it, except for your hours on the veran- 
dah, and those are helping you. Providence, for 
some reason, has debarred you the lovely out-of- 
door life he has left it open to Emily to enjoy. 
You will be as glad as I shall be to see her rosy 
and happy, and in a state of normal thought and 
energy. We often say, Elizabeth, that we must 
have health wherewith to serve God, but I say more 
than that, I say we w r ant health to enjoy what God 
gives us. I want Emily to have health for service 
and for happiness. We will all do our best to get as 
much health for you as is possible, for the same 
ends. As for service, you are doing good service 
now, I am sure, in cheering Emily and leading her 
into healthier thinking.” 

Arthur also was called upon by Ann to aid her 
with her new pupil. Arthur frankly remarked that 
Emily was “ too mournful, and wasn’t worth look- 
ing at, as compared with Davy.” However, like all 


THE KINGS HIGHWAY. 279 

boys, he had sympathies, if one went down deep 
enough into his nature to find them, and Ann pro- 
ceeded to enlist these. Arthur must persuade Emily 
to out-of-door sports and frolics; a picnic or two 
for Saturdays inaugurated this. By the end of 
three weeks, Emily was much more cheerful and 
talkative, health and strength improved, and she 
began to take some interest in life. “ I ought to 
study,” she said, “ my father will be so disappointed 
if I know nothing.” 

“ Very well, I think you are able to study some, 
suppose you join Elizabeth in her French, history, 
and literature ? ” 

“ I don’t think I’m as far on as Elizabeth in 
French.” 

“ Then we’ll both help you a little more. Those 
studies and the Reading Club work will be quite 
enough for you to undertake this year.” 

“ I don’t think I cared about any study before,” 
said Emily, “ but here you seem to make all things 
easy and pleasant. For two years there has been 
such a dark cloud over us all — a shadow — I felt all 
the time as that verse says, ‘ The valley of the 
shadow of death.’ ” 

“ Many people,” said Ann, “ think that means 
the time of our dying. I don’t think so. I think 
it means the time of our greatest trouble and temp- 
tation, just what you have been passing through, 
Emily. But God does mean you to pass through , 
not to live there. I am sure you have had a wrong 
idea of what dying is. Let us think of it as a home- 


280 toward the glory gate. 

going, one is always glad to get to a good home, 
you know. Let us see the Glory Gate, the gate of 
our home, rising at the end of our journey here. I 
often think of the lines — 

“ ‘ As when the weary traveller gains 
The height of some overlooking hill, 

His heart revives, if o’er the plains, 

He views his home, though distant still.’ ” 

Ann, as she spoke, was forming a cluster of wild 
purple asters. When she finished it, she fastened it 
upon Emily’s dress. “ It is very becoming,” she 
said. 

“ Belle and I used to dress up in flowers,” said 
Emily, “ but I have not worn any since ” 

“ Wear them now, and perhaps Belle will know, 
and be happier, even in heaven, for it. We must 
take Elizabeth a big bunch, she likes wild flowers.” 

Returned home from her drive, Emily began deck- 
ing Elizabeth with asters. “ You look a tiny bit 
like Miss Clotilde Arblay,” she said. “Miss Ann, 
do you know her ? ” 

“ Indeed I do.” 

“ Isn’t she the most beautiful creature that ever 
was made ? ” 

“ She is at least the loveliest creature I ever saw,” 
said Ann. 

“ I saw her once in full dress,” said Emily. “ She 
and Dr. Helen were going to a party at the gov- 
ernor’s, and Miss Arblay drove over for Dr. Helen, 
and then she came into the house because Dr Helen 


THE KING'S IIIGHWA V 


281 

thought the private patients, three or four that were 
at her house, would enjoy seeing her. I was stay- 
ing with Dr. Helen for a week. Miss Arblay wore 
a brocade of a pale sea-green color ; it was em- 
broidered on the waist, and the edge of the skirt, in 
olive-green sea-weeds ; there was a fluff of lace 
about the arms and shoulders like foam, and she 
wore pearls, many pearls ; her mother and grand- 
mother and she have splendid pearls. Her father 
is one of the richest manufacturers in the country. 
Miss Clotilde was just a dream of beauty ! I 
thought if only my Belle had lived to grow up, she 
might have looked just so beautiful.” 

“Your Belle looks more beautiful now, all the 
time, if you will only be brought to believe it,” said 
Elizabeth. “She wears white robes that shine 
through and through like woven light, and she has 
the crown and the flowers of heaven.” 

“ Clotilde Arblay has the sweetest disposition of 
any one I ever met,” said Ann, “and she is not 
vain.” 

“ And she is brave, brave as a lion,” said Emily, 
with enthusiasm. “ What do you suppose she did ? 
Her cousin had three children sick of varioloid. 
The servants all left, and the house was in quaran- 
tine. The cousin was not strong, and her husband 
was in South America on a business trip. Clotilde 
Arblay just went to that house and nursed those 
children ; she was not one bit afraid ; she was not 
afraid of spoiling her beauty, nor of dying ! She is 
a splendid nurse. Dr. Helen told me that when 


282 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


old Mrs. Arblay broke her hip, Clotilde nursed her 
for six weeks, and was one of the best nurses she 
ever saw ; she was like a sunbeam or a bunch of 
flowers in the sick room ! ” 

“ I wish I could know all those nice people,” said 
Elizabeth. 

“ Already you know Dorothy and Doctor Helen, 
you may see the rest of them by-and-by,” said Ann. 
“ I think I will ask Clotilde to make us a little visit 
sometime.” 

“ Always a prisoner in a chair,” said Elizabeth, 
sadly, tears of self-pity rising in her blue eyes. 

“ Don’t be sorrowful, darling,” cried Emily, throw- 
ing her arms about her, “ we must have you happy 
anyway.” 

“ It is not impossible to be happy even as a pris- 
oner in a chair,” said Ann. “ It is not where we 
are, but what we are, that creates our heaven.” 

“ Miss Ann,” said Emily, when they were alone, 
“ tell me, is Elizabeth going to get worse and worse, 
and die ? ” 

“ She is more likely to get better and better, and 
get well,” said Ann. “ Other people are not as 
hopeful of that as I am, but I cannot get that event 
out of my mind.” 

“ This is such a rest place,” said Emily, “ all goes 
so quietly, and all seem to feel so — so cared for — 
as if God was right near, and looking after every 
one all the time ! I’ve been where religious people 
were, and where religion was talked about, but here 
it seems to be lived, and to be as natural and com- 


THE KING'S HIGHWA Y. 


283 

fortable as breathing. Miss Ann, I believe my 
mother would get well if she lived here, for a year, 
with you.” 

“ She is improving,” said Ann, “ you know Dr. 
Helen went to see her, and says she is better.” 

“ Yes,” said Emily. A scheme was developing in 
her head, a scheme which she thought it premature 
to speak of, but toward which set the current of her 
thoughts, to have her mother there in Ann’s house 
in Dillburg, enjoying the heart content which she 
herself found in her present life. 

****** 

“ You look so happy, Ann,” said Mrs. Percy to 
Ann, one day. 

“I am happy. I think any one should be happy 
who has found the right niche in life, or, rather, 
when God has taken one from uncertainties, and 
placed one exactly where it is possible to be useful. 
I am so commonplace, and so unequal to high af- 
fairs of this world, and God has given me just the 
daily, hourly round of duties, that I can fulfill — 

“ ‘ O what am I that God should stoop 

From heaven to choose a place for me ? ’ ” 

“ You changed a word in that quotation to make 
it fit, Ann,” said Elizabeth, laughing. 

“ So I did ; but it is a very good quotation, all the 
same.” 

“ Is Ann commonplace, as she firmly believes she 
is ? ” said Mrs. Percy to herself. “ Is any one com- 
monplace, who serves God heartily and his neighbor 


284 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

self-forgettingly ? If that temper were common- 
place, we should be living in the millennium.” 

“ Elizabeth,” asked Mrs. Percy, when she and 
Elizabeth were alone, “ what is the secret of life 
here ? the home is changed, you are changed. 
What is it ? ” 

“Well,” said Elizabeth, slowly, “I think the 
whole thing is simply living each day with God, just 
easily, and quietly. We begin it at prayer time. 
Ann reads a few verses, and then she says some 
quiet, simple thing, about one of them, such as any- 
one might think of, but it sets the keynote of the 
day somehow. This morning she finished up read- 
ing on the verse, ‘ If I take the wings of the morn- 
ing, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 
even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right 
hand shall hold me ; * and as she shut the book, she 
said, in such a matter-of-fact way, ‘ And it’s a 
blessed thing too. If we could fall out of God’s 
hand, we should be lost for sure. If we look back 
upon our life-path, all the way he has led us ; if we 
look forward, there he stands, to welcome us at the 
Glory Gate.’ I’ve felt that, all day. Yesterday she 
was reading from Job, ‘Oh, that I knew where I 
might find him. ’ There she stopped — “ I think Job 
did not have to make that cry very long, for God is 
so near to all that call upon him, he is even found 
by those who have not sought him, as if one 
stooped to look for a pin, and found a diamond, or 
a pearl. To the longing soul God is always near: 

‘ Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after right- 


THE KING'S HIGHWAY. 285 

eousness, for they shall be filled.’ It makes our 
little morning worship so pleasant to close it in that 
way, Mrs. Percy.” 

Meanwhile Ann was guiding her little realm of 
home as best she could, and especially striving to 
help Emily. Davy had been careless, Elizabeth ex- 
ceedingly selfish, Arthur inclined toward idleness 
and mischief ; Emily offered new traits for Ann to 
war against ; Emily was indolent and exceedingly 
emotional, a creature ruled by sensibilities rather 
than by judgment or principle. Ann remembered 
that her professor of philosophy had frequently re- 
marked, “ I have greatly desired to find a purely 
sentimental type of character, and to know its 
marks.” Ann often thought that Emily would ex- 
actly fill this bill. Emily needed physical and 
mental tonic, and Ann was on the alert to supply 
stimulus to her morbid, dreamy mind. 

“ Come,” she said one evening, “ singing is good 
for people, it wakes them up, and raises the 
spirits. Elizabeth, you like to sing ; Arthur, your 
voice is improving nicely; Emily, surely you sing ? ” 

“ I used to, with my Belle ; but I have never sung 
any since ” she caught her breath. 

“ Come, let us sing now ; join your voice with 
hers once more ; the songs of God’s children on 
earth meet and mingle with those of saints and 
angels near the throne. Where are the books ? 
Let us sing, ‘ Lift up the voice, bring forth obla- 
tions,’ and ‘ Come let us join our cheerful songs, 
with angels round the throne.’ ” 


286 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


When once an advantage of this kind was gained 
over Emily’s morbidness, Ann made sure to keep 
it ; so week after week marked some improvement. 
Ann measured her pupil mentally as people measure 
babies’ bodies, to note each week of growth, and 
she had fair reports to send to Mr. Rolf. 

When Christmas came, Emily’s brother Rufus 
was invited to visit his sister for a week. Ann liked 
him well, he was goodly to look at, grave and 
touched with silence from that scathing of sorrow 
which he had suffered with his family ; but cour- 
ageous, quietly cheerful, strong, sympathetic, manly. 
Ann was more than ever anxious to make of Emily 
such a sister as Rufus Rolf would be glad to have. 
The day before the visit ended, Rufus suggested 
that it might be pleasant for Davy to receive news 
and souvenirs, direct from her family, by him, and 
if Ann so choose, he would call on Davy. At once 
a great activity reigned in the house, preparing 
a second edition of Davy’s Christmas presents. 
Arthur very masterfully ordered Emily into. the 
kitchen, where, by grace of Maggie, she could make 
candy under his directions. After a while, Rufus 
gently opened the kitchen door and peeped in. At 
the baking-table Maggie was diligently preparing 
seed cakes, little mince pies, cheese sticks, various 
dainties wherein Davy’s soul delighted, as did 
Isaac’s in his son’s venison. Arthur and Emily, 
furnished with aprons, and with their sleeves rolled 
up, were at a side table grating chocolate, preparing 
cocoanut, picking out nuts, measuring sugar and 


THE KING 'S HIGHWA Y. 287 

molasses. Each wore a white paper cap, and each 
was plentifully besprinkled with flour. 

“ I tell you what, Emily, you must put in more but- 
ter, if you want those caramels good. I say, girl — 
look out and don’t let that sugar burn. Stop ! 
Whatever are you doing ! Don’t you know that 
if you stir that boiling syrup, it will grain, and 
won’t make candy? I believe you’ll never learn 
how ! ” 

“ I can tell you what, Arthur, I can butter plates 
without leaving bare spots, and I don’t drop sugar 
on Maggie’s floor, and I don’t waste chocolate and 
cocoanut, letting them fly all around the table,” re- 
torted Emily, with spirit. 

“So you don’t,” said Maggie, “let a boy like 
Arthur alone for thinking he knows it all. It’s the 
way of boys.” 

Rufus retreated smiling. “ Emily is more natural, 
more like a little girl than she has been since our 
misfortunes,” he said to Elizabeth. “ If only she 
can get strong and bright, and mother could be so 
we could have a home once more ! I have hoped 
mother would improve so that she could travel for 
a year with father, and then re-open our house. 
Miss Elizabeth, I wish my mother could be here. 
There is a peaceful, strengthening atmosphere in 
this house, that it seems to me must cure a faint, 
sick heart ! ” 

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, “it is something that 
Ann manages, and I don’t exactly know what it is, 
but I feel the effect of it.” 


288 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


Ann came in with a little box she had been filling 
for Davy. 

“ Miss Ann,” said Rufus, “ I was just saying to 
Miss Tracy here, that I thought you all had the 
secret of the happy life. She says you have it, and 
she does not know exactly what it is. I think I 
know, you have learned to live by the day.” 

“ I don’t need to know how to live more than 
that ; to-day is all that we ever have to live,” said 
Ann, cheerily, “for to-morrow becomes to-day be- 
fore it reaches us.” 

“Why, that’s so,” cried Elizabeth, “though I had 
never thought of it before. I am always reaching 
out after to-morrow, after 1 some day,’ a some day 
when I shall be better, and so like Cowper, I have 
been 1 dupe of to-morrow even from a child.’ ” 

Rufus Rolf went away carrying a pleasant 
memory ; the singular beauty of that blameless 
home-life that Ann Bradford had created had grown 
upon him each hour of his stay. So it ha^d grown 
upon Emily, even before she had become an integral 
part of it. It was a fearless life — even death was 
no threatening spectre there : it was a frank out- 
spoken life, no one, because of some cherished false 
standard of things, had opinions to conceal : it was 
a generous life, a constant stream of benediction 
seemed to flow from that home, by deed, by word, 
by giving, advising or working for; each day the 
one or the many were helped. 

“ It’s a regular House of Refuge,” said Maggie, 
with but the vaguest of ideas what the institution 


THE KING 'S HIGH IV A V. 289 

referred to was. “ They come, and they come, 
whether it’s to borrow a steeping of tea, or a cup of 
salt, or a making of coffee, and Miss Bradford says, 
‘Always let ’em have it, Maggie,’ says she, ‘ the Scrip- 
ture is, Give to him that asketh thee ; and from 
him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away/ 
That may be all right, but there’s no Scripture 
against my asking back what some folks forget to 
pay. So when Mrs. Stone or that Mrs. Dibbs 
wades too deep in our debt, I just speak over the 
fence, ‘You don’t happen to have the coffee you 
borrowed on hand to pay back ? ’ I says, ‘ for if you 
have, it’s easier for me to trouble you for it, than to 
run to the store for it,’ says I. So, by hook and by 
crook, I gets it back. Trust me for that. Why 
people runs here — ‘ Will Miss Ann let Mr. Black 
give ’em a hand for a while to lift ? ’ or, ‘ May 
C’list’an come and show ’em how to make a poul- 
tice or a cough syrup ? ’ or/ ‘ Will Arthur be let go 
an errand for ’em across the village ? ’ or, ‘ Can 
Miss Ann lend ’em a book or a pattern, or cut them 
out a fisher or a vandik ? ’ Dear knows, it’s come 
here for something from morning till night.” 

So the life of this home was helpful to others, and 
was care-free, resting for all things on the fatherly 
love of God. 

June came and Arthur was feeling very manly and 
trying to hold himself at his best, for in the autumn 
he was to go to a fitting-school for a two years’ prep- 
aration for college. Davy came home. The ad- 
vent of the girl was as if one had tossed into the 
*9 


290 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


house a whole armful of Chatenay roses. “You’d 
make it summer by coming, Dave Tracy,” said 
Arthur, without in the least intending to be gal- 
lant. 

“ That Emily needs shaking out, and waking up,” 
said Davy to Ann, “and I mean to do it.” 

“ You’ve no idea how much she has waked up, 
already,” said Ann. 

Dorothy Camp for a while shone on Dillburg, 
and Doctor Helen Train came as Ann’s guest, and 
many were the conferences she and Ann had over 
Elizabeth’s case. 

Emily had been pressing the question of having 
her mother come to Dillburg to stay with Ann, 
and, at Mr. Rolfs request, Doctor Helen had visited 
Mrs. Rolf and spoken favorably of the plan. “ Six 
months here, having Emily with her, and so much 
improved, will restore Mrs. Rolf, so that she can 
travel for six months with her husband, and then have 
their home again. You’d better do it, Ann, it is a 
great work to help to reconstitute a broken home. 
Is your house elastic enough to receive one more ? ” 
said Dr. Helen. 

“That large upper northwest room has never 
been fitted up. I could have it papered, painted, 
furnished. It should be all fresh and attractive,” 
said the practical Ann. “ It is sunny, too.” 

The fitting up was hastened, and Mrs. Rolf came. 
September came also, and Davy and Arthur were 
gone, the summer visitors drifted away from Dill- 
burg. Mrs. Rolf shared Emily’s affection for 


THE KING'S HIGHWA Y. 


291 

Elizabeth, and Mrs. Percy and Mrs. Gates were 
congenial. 

One evening Mrs. Rolf sat by Elizabeth and 
Emily, while Mrs. Percy and Ann were near them 
on the verandah. Mrs. Rolf had sighed much that 
day, it was the anniversary of the birth of one of 
her children that she had lost. 

Elizabeth spoke out in the twilight, “ Ann, repeat 
something for us. Repeat ‘ The Alpine Sheep.’ ” 

Ann’s voice was rich and harmonious, partaking 
of the sweetness and fullness of her earnest sympa- 
thetic nature. She began softly and clearly, her 
voice stealing through the fragrant evening air, and 
still twilight, like music to that mother’s wounded 
heart, — 

“ * And I was fain to bear to you 
A portion of its mild relief, 

That it might be as healing dew 
To steal some fever from your grief.’ 

Softly the words flowed on — the Good Shepherd 
carrying the lambs to high pastures “ more dewy 
soft than lowland mead.” 

“ This parable by nature breathed, 

Blew on me as the south wind free, 

O’er frozen brooks that flow unsheathed 
From icy thraldom to the sea. 

A blissful vision through the night 
Would all my happy senses sway, 

Of the Good Shepherd on the height, 

Or climbing up the starry way, 


292 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


Holding our little lamb asleep — 

While, like the murmur of the sea, 

Sounded that voice along the deep, 

Saying — ‘ Arise, and follow me.’ ” 

When she ended, Mrs. Rolf’s tears fell in a gentle 
healing rain, and faith suddenly comforted her with 
the thought that the dear babes were not dust, but 
glad in the “ star-paved dwelling ” of the incarnate 
Son of God, sharers of his flesh, and of his redemp- 
tion. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


SANTA FILOMENA. 

“ Lo, in that home of misery 
A lady with a lamp I see 

Pass through the glimmering gloom, 

And flit from room to room. 

On England’s annals, through the long 
Hereafter of her speech and song, 

That lamp its rays shall cast 
From portals of the past. 

A lady with a lamp shall stand 
In the great history of the land, 

A noble type of good, 

Heroic womanhood.” 

Grace Dare wrote to Ann Bradford : “ Dr. 
Helen tells me that you do not find Dillburg dull. 
I remember Mrs. Baron once said to me, ‘ Noplace 
need be dull to any of us, for it is open to us al- 
ways to create vital interests about us/ Such in- 
terests help us to live with enthusiasm. Dorothy 
Camp tells us that you have in these few years cre- 
ated a new home out of the home your Aunt Fon- 
taine left you, and made a new Dillburg out of that 
sleepy place ! What do I hear — three or four study 

293 


294 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


clubs, a parochial aid society, and a village improve- 
ment society ! I hear also of houses and fences 
painted, trees planted, flowers cultivated, a better 
style of house building; churches renovated, and 
by grace of Mr. Prentice, war proclaimed on vagrant 
pigs and peripatetic cows ! Behind all this, quiet 
and very commonplace Ann Bradford, working in 
her own still way. Are you so very commonplace, 
Ann ? I doubt it ! Two of our Mount Merion 
band, who have never been accused of common- 
placeness, are Clotilde Arblay and Mrs. Baron, 
Junior. They are both in Washington. Mr. Baron 
is U. S. Senator, and Clotilde is to help make Mrs. 
Baron’s home shine. I don’t believe it is in Wash- 
ington or any other place, or even of very much 
pomps and vanities, to spoil those two, or turn them 
one whit aside from their paths of daily goodness. ,, 

It was in this way that ever and again, from here 
and there, news of the dazzling Clotilde floated to 
her friends, but always as if a bird most beauti- 
ful of plumage, was also ravishingly sweet of song. 
Meanwhile Ann’s being seemed to lie in quieter and 
calmer ways, as if, far from the thoroughfares of 
life, she wandered in shady violet-bordered lanes, 
into deeper depths of stillness and .rest. The go- 
ing out of Arthur and Davy took much of joyous 
turmoil from the house. Emily and her mother 
were of the plaintive, sensitive, shrinking people. 
For these two, Ann seemed to see the pleasure of 
the Lord prospering in her hands, for each week 
they progressed toward health and cheerfulness. 


SANTA FILOMENA. 


2 95 


“They are different people,” said Mrs. Percy. 
“ I never saw such a change in any other one, as 
has come to them, Ann.” 

With Christmas came a visit from Davy, Arthur, 
and from Rufus Rolf, making cheery holidays. 
February had just opened, when Ann was roused to 
considerable excitement by a letter from Dr. Helen 
Train : 

“ You know, Ann, I told you that if help was to 
be found in any one for Elizabeth, it was in that 

wonderfully skillful and famous Dr. F . I had 

written to him of Elizabeth’s case, and his answer 
encouraged me. But how to get the two together ? 
Elizabeth could not be moved, and then he was so 
far away. He has been three months in London, 
called to two great cases. Next week he will be 
here for two millionaire patients, he will remain a 
fortnight or more. Ann, a thousand dollar fee might 
secure him to go to Elizabeth. Would it be worth 
that to know for certain that nothing can be done 
for her? Would you set up a thousand dollars as a 
tombstone to your hope? Would it not be more 
than worth it, to know that the poor child could be 
at least partly cured, able to go out into the sun- 
shine for herself? A thousand dollars may seem 
to you a very large fee, it is very small in compari- 
son with what Dr. F. constantly receives. It is 

the least I dare suggest for time of the value of his, if, 
he goes to Dillburg. Do what you see to be best, 
only it must be done quickly.” 


296 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

Almost before she had finished reading this letter, 
Ann was putting on hat and jacket to go to Lawyer 
Grace. She gave him the letter to read. The old 
lawyer shook his head. “ Miss Ann, don’t deceive 
yourself, Elizabeth is incurable.” 

“ I am not sure of that. If I were in her place, 
I should wish to be given every chance, even for 
partial restoration,” said Ann. 

“ Miss Ann, this would be money thrown away, 
worse than thrown away, for it would perhaps ex- 
pose the poor girl to suffering and disappointment. 
Let well enough alone.” 

“ I’m not sure that the case of Elizabeth is well 
enough. I have prayed earnestly for her recovery, 
perhaps this is the golden sceptre now held out to 
us,” replied Ann. 

Mr. Grace shook his head. “ Don’t be reckless 
when you are usually so level-headed, Miss Ann. 
You are the guardian of Elizabeth’s person, and I 
cannot hinder your calling in what advice you choose. 
But I am the guardian of Elizabeth’s property, and 
I shall not let a penny of her money be wasted on 
this affair.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Grace, wouldn’t it be well used if she 
were cured ? ” 

“Yes, if— but there is no if about it. She can- 
not be cured. She is nineteen and past, and she 
has been as she is for over fourteen years. Miss 
Ann, Elizabeth’s grandfather, as I happen to know, 
left her money so tied up, just to avoid such waste 
as this. In her desire, and the desire of her friends, 


SANTA FI LO MENA. 


297 


for her cure, she would have been the prey of char- 
latans and quacks, until every penny of her prop- 
erty was gone, and she left heartbroken with dis- 
appointment and destitution.” 

“ But, Mr. Grace, Dr. F. is no charlatan, no 

quack, he is one of the most distinguished practi- 
tioners of the world, at the very top of the regular 
medical and surgical profession.” 

“ Oh, I know, I know, but he can be mistaken, 
and also he has not seen Elizabeth, nor expressed 
any opinion of her.” 

“ If only I had not lost that last little money of 
mine ! ” cried Ann, “ I could have used that for my 
poor girl ! ” 

“ I know, I know,” said Mr. Grace, stubbornly, 
“ as well lose it one way as another, and I could 
not hinder you. However, it is gone. Remember, 
also, all your aunt’s legacies to be paid by you are 
not yet paid. Arthur has five years of school and 
college life before him ; Davy over two ; there is a 
year yet to pay out four hundred on the debt — of 
dishonor.” 

“I know, I know,” said Ann, her brows knit, 
thinking vigorously. 

If Mr. Grace had known Ann more intimately, 
he would have understood that that straightening of 
the lines of her lips and chin, that tightening of her 
brows, meant that she was irrevocably bent on 
some certain thing. She said : “ Mr. Grace, that 
little fund of savings out of Elizabeth’s income be- 
gun by Aunt Fontaine, has grown by my saving 


298 TOWARD THE GLORY GA TE. 

for her, to something over five hundred dollars, I 
think. Have I a right to use that for Elizabeth, as 
I see fit ? ” 

Mr. Grace, sure that Ann proposed to put the 
savings “ into a bag with holes ” wished much to 
say, “You cannot touch it. ” But, like George 
Washington, he could not tell a lie. He replied, 
“ That money is a reserve of what has been paid 
over to the guardian of Elizabeth’s person, as in- 
come, and — the said guardian has a right to use it 
for Elizabeth, according to Elizabeth’s need. I 
have no mandatory position with regard to that 
little savings fund, but I have earned, I think, an 
advisory position in all affairs that concern Eliza- 
beth. I strongly advise you not to use that money 
in the way you now propose.” 

“ You have every right, as an adviser and friend, 
to express yourself about Elizabeth’s affairs, Mr. 
Grace,” said Ann, earnestly, “ and I hope you will 
not feel that I am stubborn and ungrateful if I can- 
not take the view you do now. I feel as if I must 
try this plan.” 

“ It will be like the beginning of strife, and the 
letting out of water,” said the lawyer. “ The rabies 
of quack help will seize you and the poor girl, and 
you will go * from mountain to hill,’ and know no 
resting-place. Let me remind you that Mrs. Fon- 
taine fully agreed with old Mr. Tracy, that Elizabeth 
should not be handed over to charlatans to be ex- 
perimented upon.” 

“ Yes, but Aunt Fontaine is not here now to ad- 


SANTA FILOMENA. 


2 99 

minister, and I am,” said Ann, with what Davy 
called her “ Rock of Gibraltar expression.” 

Mr. Grace was vexed, so vexed that he quoted 
poetry : 


“ But if they came who passed away, * 

Behold their brides in other hands ; 

The hard heir strides about their lands, 

And will not yield them for a day.” 

“I’m obliged to act the ‘hard heir ’ part this 
time,- Mr. Grace,” said Ann. “ If it turns out that 
this fee is thrown away, I shall still think that I 
did what I ought to have done ; as I should wish 
to have had done to me. If it is not thrown away, 
you will be as glad as I.” Ann pulled her feather 
boa closer about her throat, Mr. Grace gave a dis- 
satisfied grunt, and returned to his briefs. Ann 
paused a moment at the top of the stairs for a 
final consideration. Yes, surely she must do this, 
there was no other way, this is what she would 
have done for herself, if she were Elizabeth, and 
Elizabeth were Ann. Then she returned into the 
office and taking up a sheet of paper began to 
write. 

Mr. Grace watched her furtively. “Well?” he 
said, finally. 

“ My teacher in ethics,” said Ann, “ told us that 
when we were uncertain about the advisability of 
any action, it would be well to set down in parallel 
columns all reasons for and all against a course of 
action. Then proceed as far as possible in cancella- 


3 °° 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


tion, as if one were working out a problem, and the 
side which had the majority of uncancelled items 
won. I’m doing that with this question.” 

“ Well ? ” urged Mr. Grace. 

“ The affirmative gets it,” said Ann, “ Elizabeth 
must have the chance.” 

“ Woman’s stubbornness,” said Mr. Grace. 

“ Even that comes into play well, sometimes.” 

Ann went to the bank. Mr. Prentice seeing her 
enter, hastened to the cashier’s window, to shake 
hands with her. 

“ Mr. Prentice,” said Ann, “ I want to borrow five 
hundred dollars.” 

“ A thousand, if you wish,” said Mr. Prentice. 

“ I shall want it in about three weeks, possibly 
two. That little fund I have in my charge, to 
credit of Elizabeth Tracy, amounts to five hundred, 
does it not ? ” 

“Yes, five hundred and twenty.” 

“When I borrow the five hundred, I shall also 
draw all of that. The odd twenty will pay the in- 
terest on the loan for six months. I think I shall 
only need it for six months.” 

“For six years if you like, Miss Bradford.” 

Ann, however, had hastily estimated her assets, 
including Mr. Rolf’s next payment for Emily and 
Mrs. Rolf, and thought that she could pay her debt 
in six months. Then she went home and wrote 
hastily to Dr. Helen. “ The thousand-dollar fee is 

ready. Let me know when Doctor F will come, 

and all that I need to do in preparing for him.” 


SANTA FI LOME N A. 


301 


After that there was nothing more to do until she 
heard from Doctor Helen as to the probable treat- 
ment, when she must lay the case before Elizabeth. 
Until then Elizabeth should not be disturbed, and 
so Ann must keep the whole affair to herself. She 
was able to do it, and to go quietly on her way, for 
as says the Shepherd of Hennas, “ Equanimity is 
strong and forcible, and of great power, and sitteth 
in much enlargement; is cheerful, rejoicing in 
peace, and glorifies God at all times, with meekness. 
And this long-suffering dwells with those that are 
full of faith.” 

Dr. Helen’s letter came promptly. 

“ I think you are taking the right course. If it 
does not secure healing, it will, at least, give peace 

to your mind. I will come with Doctor F , we 

shall stay from Monday evening to Saturday morn- 
ing. I will be at your house, and look after Eliza- 
beth. I have written to ask Mrs. Percy to entertain 
the Doctor. Her quiet, agreeable home will just 
suit him. We will be there on the tenth. Doctor 

F will then be able to leave the patients here 

for five days, if all goes well.” 

The critical moment had come. Ann’s first 
measure was to take Mrs. Rolf into her confidence. 
This might be a good opportunity to draw Mrs. 
Rolf out of herself, and throw some little respon- 
sibility upon her. She went to Mrs. Rolf’s room 
while Elizabeth was taking her afternoon rest. To 
Ann’s delight, Mrs. Rolf showed complete calm- 
ness and self-possession, and helpfully discussed 


3 02 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


the case and the plans for it. Ann had not realized 
how nearly recovered Mrs. Rolf was. When she 
heard C’list’an open Elizabeth’s room door, she 
rose and said, “ I must go talk to Elizabeth. Come 
down in half an hour, please, Mrs. Rolf, and speak 
to her as you have to me. ” Then suddenly turning 
she kissed Mrs. Rolf, saying : “ Doctor Helen will 
say you are entirely well. I shall soon lose you, 
Mrs. Rolf. You don’t know how happy I have 
been to have you here, and how happy I am that 
you are here now. ” 

She went to Elizabeth. “ Have you had a nice 
nap ? Are you real well, dear ? ” 

“ As real well as I ever am, Ann.” 

“ My hopes grow of having you, oh, so much 
better. Have you courage to get better ? ” 

" That would not require much courage ; the 
courage is needed to stay as I am,” said Elizabeth, 
with a little sigh. 

“ Elizabeth, I see a possibility of getting you 
upon your feet, on crutches maybe at first — perhaps 
always crutches, and perhaps not. But think — 
think of being able to walk over to Mrs. Percy’s, to 
walk about the garden! Think of being able to 
get into a little low phaeton and riding to church. 
Think of going out into the woods with us — yes, 
for all day.” 

“ Don’t, Ann, I’ve thought of all this, until I’m 
heart-sick.” 

“We’ll think of all this to some purpose now, 
dear, I hope, until you are heart glad, and full of 


SAJVTA FILOMENA. 


303 


thankfulness ! See, I want to show you a letter 
from Doctor Helen Train.” She gave her the first 
letter. 

“ Well, the money is all right !” cried Elizabeth, 
eagerly. 

“Oh, yes,” said Ann, not mentioning how it was 
come by, and she gave Elizabeth the other letter. 
Elizabeth read it. 

“It must be tried,” she said. Then, catching her 
breath, and turning pale : “I’m so afraid of suffer- 
ing ! ” 

“ This will not be half as much as you have suf- 
fered already, dear, perhaps no pain at all,” said 
Ann, and just then Mr. Black knocked on the door, 
bringing mail. There was a letter from Dr. Helen 
to Elizabeth. While she was reading it, Mrs. Rolf 
came in. “We don’t want to raise your hopes too 
high, dear, but really I feel as if I must offer con- 
gratulations even now ; I feel so sure of help for 
you. ” 

“ Doctor Helen says Doctor F may think 

nothing can be done,” said Elizabeth, “or it 
may be that what he tries will not succeed, but then 
she says it may succeed, and she thinks it will. Oh, 
to think that next year I may be out of this chair, 
be able to walk through these rooms, be going down 
that walk.” 

“ Yes, let us expect that by God’s blessing,” said 
Mrs. Rolf. 

“ Ann, I don’t want it talked about. If I am 
cured, we will give it to Davy and Arthur as a sur- 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


3°4 

prise. I don’t want people talking or coming to in- 
quire,” burst forth Elizabeth. 

“ No ; nor do I. I mean to have a lock put on 
that front gate ! Not a foot shall step on the walk, 
not a hand pull the bell. You shall burst upon the 
neighborhood as a surprise, Elizabeth. What will 
people think to see you calmly walking over to call 
on Mrs. Gates, and Mrs. Percy ! They only need 
know, and on pledge of secrecy.” 

In spite of all this effort after good cheer, there 
was more or less of care and trepidation, the days 
seemed long until the two doctors arrived, and that 
was a critical hour when they appeared, and the 
dread adventure was really begun. 

“ I wish I could bear it all for Elizabeth,” said 
Ann, with a burst of tears, to Doctor Helen, “ Eliza- 
beth looks to me so frail and sensitive, and she has 
borne so much.” However, tears were not usual to 
Ann Bradford, and she had put them away, before 
with Doctor F and Dr. Helen she went to Eliza- 

beth. 

“ It is not often,” said Doctor F “ that I find 

a patient of this class in so fine a physical condi- 
tion as Miss Tracy,” and then Elizabeth gave a 
grateful look to Ann, who had made her health such 
a study for three years. 

“We work in these matters more or less in the 

dark,” said Doctor F , “ we cannot be sure of 

recovery. Sometimes we fail to secure even an im- 
provement, complications arise ; but I have very 
strong hopes, Miss Tracy, that you will not rec- 


SANTA FI LO MENA. 


3°5 

ognize the young lady who will meet you in the 
looking-glass in a few months from now.” 

“ O Helen,” said Ann, next morning, “ what 
would I do, what would my Elizabeth do this morn- 
ing, if we could not hold fast by the hand of the 
dear Lord, to-day ? ” 

“ Lean hard,” said Helen, “ he will carry you both 
through, and turn your fear into joy, for the love 
that he bears to his people.” 

When, on Saturday morning, Doctor F and 

Dr. Helen departed, leaving their patient in the 
hands of Ann, Dr. Helen promising to return in a 
week to stay for a few days, Ann Bradford felt 
twenty years older; she had lived through so many 
alternating emotions. But joy and thankfulness 
were uppermost, for fear had turned to hope, and 
hope was growing to assurance, of how much, none 
could yet tell, but certainly of better things. 

Mrs. Rolf was sitting by the bed of Elizabeth, 
when Ann came back from the station. 

“ Let not him that putteth on the armor boast as he 
that taketh it off,” said Mrs. Rolf. 11 Indeed, I felt 
much happier saying ‘Good-bye’ to those blessed 
doctors, than I did when I said, ‘ How do you do,’ 
and all was uncertainty. Now we have clear sail- 
ing before us. This past week is a week well 
ended.” 

“ Bless the Lord, O my soul,, and forget not 
all his benefits,” said Ann, and Elizabeth, lying 
peacefully on her pillow, looked up with happy 

eyes. 

20 


306 toward the glory gate. 

“ The very first day that Elizabeth can walk into 
the dining room, I mean to have Mr. Grace here to 
tea,” said Ann. 

At college, when any of her girl mates were sick, 
Ann had been the nurse, she “ took to nursing 
naturally,” she said. 

Now Elizabeth suffered nothing from the absence 
of Dr. Helen. Ann had carefully studied Dr. 
Helen’s methods, and been a docile pupil of the 

famous Doctor F . Her patient did justice to 

her cares. 

Such pleasant surprises came to Elizabeth. Let- 
ters from Dorothy, Madame Baron, and the fair 
Clotilde ; baskets of fruit and flowers from Rufus 
Rolf. Grace Dare sent her a picture, a water color 
of spring woodlands, that now could wake in Eliza- 
beth, not a sick longing for what she could never 
see, but a confident expectation of going out among 
the budding flowers and leaves herself! From the 
Gillespies, Mrs. Gates and Mrs. Percy, came notes 
and books, and so, by degrees, the waiting time was 
whiled away. Ann saw that this time was helpful 
to Emily, calling her out of herself into practical 
usefulness ; helpful to Mrs. Rolf, as it brought her 
back to her motherly place and to womanly cares. 
Day by day her wounded heart was healed, not 
merely by the touch of time, but by the Great 
Physician and the “ Balm of Gilead.” After the 
waiting came the time when Elizabeth rose from 
her bed, and upheld by Ann and Mrs. Rolf, began 
to stand ; then supported by C’list’an and some 


SANTA FILOMENA. 


3°7 

others, she took the first steps she had made for 
fourteen years. What a day of joy ! 

Then came the day of Ann’s threatened tea-party. 
Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie, Mrs. Percy, Mrs. Gates, 
and Mr. Grace were invited. When all were in the 
library, Elizabeth took the strong, light, beautiful 
crutches, made for her under Dr. Helen’s direction, 
and slowly, proud as a baby-child over its first pil- 
grimage, she left her room, crossed the hall, and 
stood, shining and smiling, in the library door! 
There was a deep breath of glad surprise. Then 
Mr. Grace came forward, his face full of emotion, 
his voice husky, he laid his hand upon the golden 
head and said, “God bless you, my little girl ! ” 

What an hour of happiness ! Even Emily was 
ecstatic, Mrs. Rolf was all smiles, and C’list’an and 
Maggie fairly contended for the post of waiting on 
the table. This was late in May, when Elizabeth 
could walk out on the verandah, and see the lines 
of color peeping through the calyxes of the buds of 
climbing-rose clusters. In truth, Elizabeth wanted 
to walk too much, until Ann threatened to seques- 
trate the crutches. 

“ I was wrong, and you were right, Miss Ann,” 
said Mr. Grace. “ I am so glad that you were 
persistent, I feel that I should pay that other five 
hundred.” 

“ No, that is provided for,” said Ann, merrily. 
“I mean to have all the glory of that transaction. 
However, I will tell you what you can do. When 
Mrs. Rolf’s horse and surrey are taken away, Eliza- 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


308 

beth will need a low-hung, two-seated phaeton, and 
safe horse, and I hope you will provide them. For 
a while Elizabeth will have no savings, for now she 
will need dresses, gloves, hats, wraps, all the para- 
phernalia of people, you see ! ” In those days Ann 
was very cheery. 

That latter part of May, one morning, when they 
were on the piazza, there was a deep far-off roar and 
rumble, and the ground quivered so that the gates 
rattled on their catches, the vines trembled along 
the trellis, the water welled over from a full glass. 

“ Is it an earthquake ? ” cried Elizabeth. 

“ No : I have been in two — it is not an earth- 
quake,” said Mrs. Rolf. Then, after a little, Ann 
said, “ I fear it is some accident at the ‘ Strother 
Mine.’ ” 

“ Why, that is ten miles away,” said Emily. 

“ All the more I fear that it is some terrible 
disaster there.” 

Mr. Black came from the garden, going down to 
the telegraph office to make inquiries. In an hour 
he came back. “ A dreadful explosion and falling 
in, Miss Bradford, at the Strother Mine. Many are 
said to be killed, many hurt. Our two doctors, Mr. 
Gillespie and another minister, and Mr. Prentice 
are going there to help. A car will be sent in half 
an hour.” Ann put away her work. “ I must go ! 
there is where I am needed ; lama good nurse and 
have strong nerves. Mrs. Rolf, will you be house- 
mother and mistress, while I am gone ? C’list’an, 
pack in my telescope, everything that is on the bot- 


SANTA FILOMENA. 


309 

tom shelf of the medicine closet. See that the sweet 
oil, and carbolic acid, and ammonia bottle are firmly 
corked ; put in six towels, six pillow-cases, and 
three pairs of sheets — those soft old ones, from the 
lowest shelf in the linen-closet. Emily dear, please 
put my slippers and some aprons and a wrapper 
together, and call Mr. Black to take the telescope 
to the station. Then run down there yourself, and 
buy a dozen each of lemons and oranges, and have 
them ready for some of us to carry, as we go.” 

Issuing all these directions, Ann was preparing 
herself with speed, and with a final, “ Call in Mrs. 
Percy if you need help,” she was away. Mrs. Rolf 
stood as if transfixed, gazing after Ann’s rapid pace 
down the street. 

“ Did ever any one think so quickly before ! ” 
she exclaimed. “ Did any one before ever have 
every item and article in her house in such exact 
order and place, and know where to put hands on 
everything so promptly ? She will be a host of 
helpers in one, down at Strothers.” 

“ On that shelf,” said C’list’an, “ she had ban- 
dages, and a pile of old linen handkerchiefs, all nicely 
ironed, carbolized cotton, a roll of flannel, and half 
a dozen poultice-bags, all ready to use. The shelf’s 
empty, and if I know what is good for me, I’ll fill it 
up before Miss Bradford comes back. I must make 
bandages and bags, and hunt up flannel and hand- 
kerchiefs, and have the bismuth-box filled, and the 
vaseline, oil, and ammonia replaced. When Mrs. 
Stone’s little boy got burned badly, Miss Ann was 


3io 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


over there with cloths and bismuth and vaseline, 
and glycerine, and had him all done up and com- 
fortable before his mother was done shrieking in 
the back yard, or his father had found the doctor. 
Oh, Miss Ann’s great — but she don’t think it — and 
she’s afraid of nothing. Don’t know, for my part, 
where they raise such people as Miss Ann. Well, 
he’s lucky that she tends this night.” 

The reinforcement from Dillburg was a godsend 
to “ Strothers.” The dead were being taken to an 
improvized morgue in an empty store ; the school- 
house and two little churches standing near to each 
other had been turned into hospitals ; helpers from 
other places began to arrive ; cots and mattresses 
were spread, and the moans and groans of suffering 
humanity filled the air; wounds, fractures, burns, 
bruises, and internal injuries claimed attention. The 
various doctors and the self-offered nurses began to 
bring order out of this terrible confusion. Ann, 
steady of nerve and deft of hand, not without knowl- 
edge and experience, dressed various burns and 
bound up wounds, administered anodynes, and 
when her patient could be sent to some private 
house near, saw to it that he was taken there, and 
put to bed. Then she helped the doctors as they 
treated severer cases. 

“ Here’s a bed all ready,” she said quietly, when 
one severe operation was finished. She had made 
up a cot, clean and fresh with the sheets she had 
brought, found some one to get her a pillow, and 
the sufferer was laid to rest as neatly as if in a hos- 


SANTA FI LO MEN A. 


3il 

pital. “ Here’s a towel,” just as one was wanted ; 
a roll of bandage slipped into a surgeon’s hand, just 
as he came into need of it. 

“ I wish we had forty like you here, Miss,” said a 
doctor. 

Not the least of Ann’s help was given in freeing 
the hospitals of weeping and helpless women, who 
could be of service in going home to prepare beef- 
tea, gruel, hot milk and refreshments for patients ; 
for nurses and doctors, rolls of bandages. She made 
suggestions so clearly, and was so quick to sort 
those who ought to go from those who could be 
useful if they stayed, that here she was especially 
serviceable. About four o’clock in the morning, 
when the first cares needed had been given to all, 
Ann found a cushion and a corner between two cots 
where patients might need attention, and took a 
nap, until half-past five. Then some one brought 
her a cup of coffee, and she began to pass among 
the beds, bathing fevered faces and hands with 
cologne or bay-rum and water. When she crossed 
the street to see what was needed in the other 
church, the day was bright, and the sunshine fell 
from the window over the cots, sufferers and a new 
nurse. The golden glory lit up a figure of the 
utmost grace, in a gray gown, white cap, sleeves 
and apron ; the lightest possible tread went from 
cot to cot, daintily soft hands ministered, a voice of 
low music soothed, the light illumined the matchless 
beauty of a face, and there Clotilde Arblay stood 
tirelessly between life and death, the face of an 


3 12 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


angel bent over aching heads and dulling eyes. 
Ann stood to watch her for an instant, then took up 
her own task, and so as they went from one to an- 
other, they at last met by the same bed. “ Ann ! ” 
“ Clotilde ! ” it was all they said ; their hands 
clasped across a broken form, and then ministered 
to bring it ease from pain. Later they were taken 
by a good woman to get a breakfast and a little 
rest. 

“ I heard the explosion, and our Dillburg detach- 
ment was of the first that came ; ” said Ann, “ but 
how did you get here, Clotilde ? ” 

“ I have been visiting at General Seymour’s. 
Last night we were at a party, about eleven o’clock, 
when I heard of this terrible accident. Several 
were speaking of coming here to help, on the mid- 
night train. One of my hostesses had had this 
nurse’s dress (so sensible and comfortable) to wear 
in a tableau. I ran upstairs, hurried off my full 
dress, put on this, and reached the station with the 
rest of them. I know, Ann, that I am a good 
nurse, and here I stay as long as these poor suf- 
ferers need me.” 

“ Sick and ye visited me,” said Ann, looking with 
eyes full of admiration at the lovely Clotilde, for- 
getting that she herself had come from being served 
to serve. But God never forgets ; in his records it 
was written of them both, “ Ye did it unto me.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE JOY OF ELIZABETH. 

“ Nor ever shall be wanting Here 
The palm, the lily and the spear, 

The symbols that of yore, 

Saint Filomena bore.” 

Clotilde Arblay and Ann Bradford were two 
weeks at Strothers, nursing the injured. When 
Ann saw Clotilde going tirelessly and patiently from 
bed to bed, always cheerful, tactful, apt to help ; 
when she heard her musical voice through the gloom 
of night, repeating Scripture or hymns, or praying 
by the suffering and dying, then she could not but 
marvel that the indulgences and temptations of 
wealth had left this girl unharmed in physique, and 
unspoiled in spirit. The beauty of Clotilde’s char- 
acter grew upon Ann daily, it was as rarely lovely 
as her person. “ I should have had a hard time of 
it here, without you, Clotilde,” said Ann. “ You 
have been so encouraging, so brave, so sympathetic ; 
the quiet times when we could sit and talk with 
each other have been so restful.” 

“ I’m glad it has been so,” said Clotilde, “ and 
your being here has not only been delightful to me, 

3i3 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


34 

but it has calmed the fears of father and mother 
upon my account.” 

“ Why, what did they ever know of meV ’ 

“ Evidently, Ann, you never have heard Doctor 
Helen talk about you,” said Clotilde, laughing. 
“ She makes you a heroine.” 

C’list’an came two or three times to Strothers, 
bringing clothes for Ann, comforts for the sick, 
news of the family, and doing part of a day’s nurs- 
ing each time that she came. Finally, to the es- 
pecial joy of Emily and Elizabeth, the Strothers 
cases were disposed of ; some were cured ; some 
able to go home to complete recovery ; some were 
taken to hospitals in large towns, and Clotilde went 
with Ann to Dillburg and remained three days. At 
the station, carefully “ pillowed up ” in the phaeton, 
sat Elizabeth, taking her first ride for nearly fifteen 
years. 

All this delightful news of the improvement of 
Elizabeth had been concealed from Davy and 
Arthur. Elizabeth wished to surprise them. When 
the day of their return came, Ann went to meet them 
in the surrey. The little lad, Arthur, whom she 
had brought to Dillburg and allowed for the first 
time in his life to drive a horse, now towered above 
her head, and valiantly grasped the reins. 

“ Do look what a great fellow Arthur is,” said 
Davy, “ I did not know him when he came aboard 
the cars.” 

“ I don’t wonder, my lad, that you ’ve had such 
bills for shoes and clothes,” said Ann, “you’ve 


THE JOY OF ELIZABETH. 


315 


simply grown right out of all the garments you have 
possessed.” Then she laid a hand on each of Ar- 
thur’s shoulders, and said, “ Look me in the eyes,” 
and he looked her full in the eyes; agaze as simple, 
honest, and good, as the frank gaze of the little lad 
who had come to her to find his first home. “ All 
right,” said Ann, “drive on.” And the heart of 
Ann was glad that, by the goodness of God, this 
Davy and this Arthur had not been taken out of the 
world, but kept from the evil that is in the world. 

As they came within sight of the house, said 
Davy, “ What girl is that by our gate ? Not Emily ? 
The hair is just like Elizabeth’s.” 

A girl in a white gown stood there, but her back 
was turned to them, as she looked the other way. 

“ Poor Elizabeth,” said Arthur, with sentiment, 
“ she'll never have the good luck to stand by that 
gate, or any other — and it’s not Emily, either.” 

“ No,” said Ann, coolly, “ not Emily.” 

“ Whoa ! ” cried Arthur, with unnecessary energy 
— they were at home. The girl by the gate turned 
her face calmly, it was the face of Elizabeth. Davy 
and Arthur very nearly fell out of the surrey. Ar- 
thur was so excited that he vaulted the fence, and 
Ann was obliged to cry out, “Take care ! ” as Davy 
dashed wildly to her sister, and seized her in her 
arms. 

“ Look out, Davy ! Don’t upset her crutches,” 
shrieked Emily, running to the rescue. However, 
Elizabeth could not have fallen, if the crutches had 
entirely disappeared, for Arthur had thrown his 


3 i 6 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

arms around her on one side, and Davy on the other ; 
one gave her a hug and said, “ O Elizabeth ! Walk- 
ing, oh ! ” and the other gave a hug and cried, “ Oh, 
jolly for you, Elizabeth ! On your feet, out of doors ! 
Whoo ! Won’t we have larks ! ” 

Then both were seized with a longing “ to see 
Elizabeth walk,” and they stood on one side, and 
viewed Elizabeth as a procession, as she went 
slowly to the verandah where Mrs. Rolf stood ready 
to receive her, and C’list’an was waiting to steady 
her motion up the three steps. 

Then Mrs. Rolf and C’list’an established Eliza- 
beth in the hammock. 

“ That hammock act isn’t quite so new,” said Ar- 
thur. “ Last summer C’list’an and Maggie carried 
you out to the hammock, and laid you in it to swing 
for hours, and we thought that was wonderful do- 
ings : but this walking is simply fine ! Have you 
been to the woods yet, Elizabeth ? ” 

“ Not yet, I must hasten slowly. I took my first 
ride ten days ago, when Ann came home from 
Strothers, and I have been out for three little rides 
since. I have to be very careful, and not strain or 
tire myself. I walk a little each day, and each day 
I find it easier. I have been to the gate now, four 
times. While you and Davy are home I hope to 
get to the woods for a ride, two or three times, and 
perhaps to church, if Ann can contrive some carpen- 
try in our church pew, so that I can sit there with- 
out being strained or tired.” 

“ Pooh, pooh ! ” said Arthur, airily. “ It takes me 


THE JO Y OF ELI Z ABE TH. 317 

to contrive things : I can manage that in a minute. 
We’ll. have all kinds of cushioned chairs sent up 
from the shop, and when you find one that exactly 
suits you, in every way, I’ll take it to the church, 
and have the end of the pew cut out, and the chair 
put in just turned enough, so that you can sit down 
without twisting about. Of course, I’d have to 
trench a little on Mrs. Percy’s pew, and on Mr. 
Prentice’s, but they won’t care ; anybody ’d do any- 
thing for you , Elizabeth.” And Arthur stood with 
his shoulders thrown back, his feet planted wide 
apart, and an air of “ knowing it all,” which made 
Ann and Mrs. Rolf smile covertly. Then he seated 
himself near Elizabeth, and began to talk about 
athletics ; what “ tall running ” he could do, what 
“ standing high jumps,” what “ running high jumps,” 
how he had won a hurdle race, and “ knocked spots 
into a potato race,”— all this for the benefit of 
Davy and Emily, who, instead of attending to his 
boasting, were deep in the beauties of a gown which 
Clotilde Arblay had worn at the commencement 
banquet. 

Ann had looked a little worn and saddened by 
her experiences at Strothers. She had seen for 
those two weeks a very tragic side of life ; it needed 
all Clotilde Arblay’s buoyant vitality to live such 
experiences down. Now that Arthur and Davy were 
back, with their joyous youth, their planning, boast- 
ing, caressing, their high imaginings, their golden 
spectacles, their exuberant vitality, their endless 
schemes for entertainment, Ann revived, as a plant 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


318 

brought from the cellar revives in the sun. As for 
Emily, one would hardly have known the girl. Ab- 
solutely, Emily’s laugh rung out with the rest, and 
Emily’s interest in hay-wagon rides, picnics, and 
watermelon parties by moonlight, was as warm as 
any one’s. 

Doctor Davy and Doctor Arthur had well nigh 
completed the cure of Mrs. Rolf, when her son 
Rufus arrived, took the case out of their hands, and 
finished it with much credit. 

“Little mother,” he said one day, “you abso- 
lutely have dimples in your cheeks again ; they are 
round pink cheeks, as they were when I was a little 
laddie, and thought you the prettiest lady in the 
world. Won’t father be happy when he gets here, 
and how good it was of you to get gray and laven- 
der dresses, and not use black all the time. The 
dress does not alter our heart feelings, you know, 
but it can sadden and dull other people sometimes. 
I think Emily began to get better, when I came here 
and told Miss Ann to put her into Scotch plaid and 
crimson merino. 

Elizabeth, resting in her hammock, laughed mer- 
rily. “ You young men think you are wise enough 
ta dictate everything, even to girls’ gowns,” she 
said. “ But I do think that when God dressed 
flowers and birds and fishes, even stones so brightly, 
he meant to hint to us that this brightness conduced 
to health and good cheer, and we must not go 
mourning all our days, because he has done what 
seemeth him good.” 


THE JOY OF ELIZABETH. 


Z l 9 


“ There, now,” said Ann to Mr. Grace, as she 
gave him a check for four hundred dollars, “ Aunt 
Fontaine’s expiation of another’s sin is complete. 
Truly she might write : ‘ Then I restored that 

which I took not away.’ ” 

“Yes, she was a good woman,” said Mr. Grace, 
“ and if now, from the world where she is, she can 
know what is done here, I am sure she will feel that 
she left her affairs in the best possible hands. 
I don’t know but you have done better than she 
would have done, for I am sure she would not have 
given Arthur home life. She would not have ven- 
tured on the course you took for Elizabeth. Really, 
Miss Ann, I’m glad this burden of the debt is off 
your hands ; those two young folks at college will 
tax you to the utmost, and I suppose now you will 
lose the Rolfs. They’ve been a help to you, and 
you have been a wonderful help to them. I think, 
Miss Ann, you are one of those sent into the world 
to help everybody with whom you come in con- 
tact. ” 

“Are we not all so sent?” said Ann. “As to 
the Rolfs, Mrs. Rolf will leave early in September, 
and spend the winter in the West Indies and Brazil 
with Mr. Rolf. Emily will be with me another 
year, and will take more studies. Emily is not so 
brainy as Davy, she needs more pushing.” 

“ I suppose so; Davy is rather an uncommon girl. 
Left without education or piety, she would have been 
a terror to the community, a desperate mischief- 
maker ; now, she is to be a blessing, ‘ thoroughly 


322 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


“You’re a real comfortable person to live with,” 
said Elizabeth, gratefully. “ I’m afraid I shall 
always be a despondent person that you will need to 
cheer up.” 

As birds scatter from nests and lawn, when 
autumn winds begin to whistle shrilly, in September, 
Ann Bradford’s happy summer-family broke up. 
Davy, Rufus, and Arthur were off to their studies, 
and Mrs. Rolf went with her husband to the Wind- 
ward Islands. Then Elizabeth and Emily went to 
their winter lessons as vigorously as Ann thought 
good for girls of their constitution ; each day they 
had a drive in the phaeton, and Emily, in addition, 
a ride on horseback. At Christmas, Emily went to 
the city to spend the holidays w r ith Davy, Dorothy, 
and Dr. Helen Train. She took with her gifts for 
Davy, and a box was sent to Arthur ; thus Christmas 
was provided for early. 

“ Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ let us have a good 
time.” 

“ How ? ” asked Elizabeth, with doubting. 

“ We’ll give Aunt Fontaine’s ‘ old folks’ party,’ 
as usual ; but, before we have that, let us have a 
children’s party, a party for children that never went 
to a party before. We’ll have our table trimmed 
gayly, and they shall have turkey, and sweet pickles, 
doughnuts, cake and ice cream, and plenty of other 
fixings ; and when they go home each shall have a 
popcorn ball, and a big piece of nut-candy. We 
will make up a box of presents to send to the Chil- 
dren’s Hospital ; also, IJ|3ve the names of two ‘ shut 


THE JO Y OF ELIZA BE TH. 


323 


in * children ; we’ll send presents to each of them 
They are poor children, and something pretty will, 
come good to them.” 

Elizabeth brightened considerably at hearing of 
these plans. As they worked for the little ones at 
the Children’s Hospital they had a letter from Dor- 
othy to talk of — Dorothy’s letter said little of Davy 
or Emily, for Dorothy’s thoughts were all with 
Clotilde. 

“ Mr. Arblay’s great manufactory has failed — a 
most terrible crash. I do not quite understand what 
brought it on, but nothing dishonorable in him : 
every one speaks in the highest terms of him. The 
anxiety and loss brought on an attack of apoplexy ; 
he died two weeks ago. I saw Clotilde yesterday ; 
she bears up wonderfully, but evidently the entire 
loss of property has passed out of sight, in the 
sadder loss of her father. Those Arblays were 
always such a loving family ! Clotilde has to keep 
up the courage of her mother and grandmother : 
people also say that Clotilde is showing wonderful 
business talent in her efforts to secure a little com- 
petence for those two. Mrs. Arblay senior has a 
little house prettily situated in the suburbs, and 
they will go there, with one servant, whom they 
have had for ten years, and a little boy Clotilde 
picked up on the street two years ago, and was 
bringing up as a general utility boy, on the place. 
There will be enough for the widow and her mother- 
in-law to live upon quietly, and as soon as they are 


3 2 4 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


settled, Clotilde is going to the hospital for six 
months’ training, then is intending to be a nurse ; 
she says nursing is her one talent. Dear, lovely 
Clotilde, she is more charming than ever in her 
sorrow, her simple mourning, her courage, and earnest 
thinking for others. The longer she lives, the better 
she grows. * Peaceable fruits of righteousness,’ 
that was all I could think of, as we talked together, 
and she told me her plans. All the splendors of 
her life have vanished, except those costly pearls of 
three generations. She has put them in the vault 
of a Security Trust Company. No one has any 
shadow of claim upon them, and she told me they 
were her reliance, in case of any extra need, sick- 
ness, or accident, arising for her mother or grand- 
mother. She seems to care no more for resigning 
those jewels than a child for the faded wreath it 
drops at the end of its play. I went with her to 
deposit the pearls, and as we came away I thought 
of Paul’s words — ‘ Henceforth there is laid up for 
me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the 
righteous Judge, shall give me at that day: and not 
to me only, but unto all them also that love his 
appearing.’ ” 

This news of Clotilde occupied much of the 
thoughts of Ann and Elizabeth, as they worked 
together. 

Grace Dare’s wedding-cards came shortly after 
New Year’s, and then the news that Sara Fordyce 
had been chosen to go to a foreign land, to open a 


THE JOY OF ELIZABETH 


325 

school for the daughters of certain princes of 
a nation coming out of heathenism and semi-civili- 
zation. 

“ How can she bear to go ! ” cried Elizabeth. 
But Ann made answer, “ How could she bear to 
refuse ? This is work that will tell on the ages ; she 
is going to build up a country, by educating for it 
wives and mothers. How the little party of us that 
had gathered at Mount Merion Cottage is scattering, 
and finding diverse ways in life, God calling each 
one to labor as it pleases him — the only real affair 
for us is to stand ready to answer, ‘here I am,’ 
when he calls us. ” 

“ Even though I am so much stronger than I was,” 
said Elizabeth, “ it seems that I am fit to do very 
little. You need not think, Ann, that I do not notice 
how careful you are that I should not be tired or 
startled. It is like having a perpetual child in the 
house ! What of God’s work can I do ? ” 

“ ‘God has his plan for every man,’ and, at least, 
Elizabeth, you can cherish the child-spirit, for that 
is the spirit required of those who would enter the 
Glory Gate.” 

As winter passed away, the thoughts of Ann and 
her girls turned toward the summer, its vacation, 
and the re-uniting of the family. 

“I can go out more this summer than I did last,” 
said Elizabeth. “ How lovely it will be to spend 
whole days in the woods ! And Ann, let us give 
the girls a lawn party with plenty of Chinese lan- 
terns, and two or three pavilions for taking the re- 


326 TOWARD THE GL OR Y GA TE. 

freshments in. Davy, Emily, and Arthur can do the 
work, and I’ll provide the entertainment.” 

The first interference of these charming plans 
came from Arthur. His professor had been asked 
to join the state geologist in his summer work, and 
two lads were to go with the party, pay small, but 
all expenses provided. 

“ It will be very pleasant to make such a trip,” 
wrote Arthur, “ and good for health, and a great 
help in my studies, as it will push me right along in 
my natural sciences. Then, too, I ought to be earn- 
ing a little something toward my expenses, and the 
sixty dollars will be of use. I hope, Cousin Ann, 
you’ll not object to my going. I can be home for 
a week in the fall. I’ll hate not to be there more, 
but I ought to take hold and do what I can.” 

Ann handed the letter to Elizabeth. “ We’ll 
miss the boy, but I suppose he’ll have to go,” said 
Elizabeth. 

“ Yes, certainly, and with such a party, with his 
professor to be responsible for him, I shall feel less 
anxious about him, I’m always anxious because he 
is not a Christian ; he is a nice boy, but he needs 
more than niceness to stay him against the tempters 
that lie in wait for souls at every step.” 

“ Casting all your care, Ann,” said Elizabeth. 
“ You have that privilege.” 

“ Yes, and if I didn’t use my privilege, I don’t 
know what would become of me. How do people 
get on who don’t realize that there is a Burden- 
bearer, a Helper, ever present ? ” 


THE JOY OF ELIZABETH. 


327 


Scarcely had Ann and Elizabeth adjusted them- 
selves to the idea of doing without Arthur for the 
summer, when a letter came from Mr. Rolf proposing 
very great changes. 

Mr. Rolf and his wife were going to Europe for 
the vacation months : this might be the last of these 
trips for Mr. Rolf, and he thought it well to take 
Emily. Rufus also was going for the advantage of 
travel immediately after his graduation, and Mr. 
Rolf invited Davy to accompany them, entirely at 
his own expense. 

“ Such a wonderful opportunity for Davy,” said 
Ann, “ it will be good for her health. Dorothy 
writes me that the child has studied hard this year, 
and looks a little pale and worn. A trip to Europe 
will help Davy through her senior year wonderfully, 
and it will also have weight when she is looking for a 
position as teacher, a year from now. Clearly we 
must give Davy up for the summer, and Emily, too. 
How delighted they will be ! Mr. Rolf says if I 
agree to the plan on Davy’s behalf, I may tell them 
both of it.” 

“Yes, it is splendid for Davy,” said Elizabeth, 
cheerfully, and Ann noted with delight, that there 
w r as none of the old-time jealousy in voice and ex- 
pression. “ Fine, for Davy; and she owes it all to 
you, Ann. If you had not sent her to college, if 
you had not been the efficient, thoroughgoing Ann 
that you are, Mr. Rolf would never have sent Emily 
here, and Mrs. Rolf would not have come here. 
It is because they feel indebted to you for more than 


328 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

money’s worth, that they are giving Davy this 
treat.” 

“I’m so glad, Elizabeth, that you feel so well 
satisfied with me,” said Ann, “ even when I know 
you are overpaying me in credit and appreciation, it 
is yet very pleasant. As we are praising each other, 
and are a fashion of mutual admiration society, let 
me ask you if you cannot feel thankful, that you 
have grown God-ward, now that you can be unen- 
viously glad of Davy’s opportunities for enjoyment ? 
Four or five years ago, your first thoughts would 
have been of self-pity, and of vexation against Davy.” 

“ Yes, silly thing that I was, but I am older now, 
Ann.” 

“True, but growing older and growing better, do 
not always run in couples, my dear ; you have 
grown in grace, Elizabeth.” 

Elizabeth thought for a little. “ Yes, Ann, I 
think that I have, and I remember that you once 
said it was well to look back and measure our prog- 
ress ; to count the milestones by which we had 
come ; to notice where our tempers, desires and 
views differ from our past phases.” 

“ These, I think, are the real golden milestones on 
our way borne,” said Ann. “ Now we must be very 
practical ; Davy’s expenses will be paid for the 
trip, but Davy must have some money to spend, and 
Davy must have her outfit. Sara Fordyce has been 
abroad several times ; she will tell me what is needed. 
I have heard her say that for real enjoyment of a 
short trip, one should go encumbered with very 


THE JOY OF ELIZABETH. 


3 29 


little baggage. She says her little steamer-trunk 
suffices for a three months’ stay, if she has a good 
new travelling-dress, and one pretty good silk for 
extra occasions. Then, whatever is needed beyond 
that can be bought on the spot. Elizabeth, you and 
I will have a real good time getting Davy ready for 
her trip, and we will have to oversee Emily’s prep- 
arations, too.” 

“ Yes,” said Elizabeth, “ each will need some 
knit slippers, and a linen case lined with oil-silk for 
brushes, combs and so on, and I shall make them. 
I was reading about those conveniences for travel- 
lers the other day, never thinking I should person- 
ally need to have anything to do with them ! Ann, 
Davy will not get home at all this summer, they 
will sail the very day after commencement. We’ll 
have to send her things to her.” 

“ Suppose, Elizabeth,” said Ann, “ that you write 
to Davy about it, and tell her that we have decided 
that she can go. There comes Emily, we’ll give 
her her father’s letter, and see how she will look 
when she realizes what it means ; and we can im- 
agine how Davy will behave when she reads your 
letter.” 

“ Emily will turn red and white, and then red, and 
will catch her breath, and say : ‘ O Miss Ann 1 ’ 
and will then sit and smile for an hour ; but Davy 
will turn herself into a teetotum, and whirl about, 
and show her letter to this one and that one, and 
then do the dancing-dervish act over again,” cried 
Elizabeth, laughing. 


33 ° 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


“ What are you two laughing at ? ” demanded 
Emily, coming in. 

“ At you and Davy,” said Elizabeth, “ here’s a 
letter from your father ; stand right there, please, to 
read it.” 

Emily read, and fulfilled Elizabeth’s predictions ; 
then she read the letter again, and when she sat 
down to smile for the hour which Elizabeth had 
foretold, there was, in addition to the smile, an astute 
expression on her face that suggested that she saw 
deeper into affairs than any one else did. 

The news that Emily and Davy were to go abroad 
roused quite a commotion in Dillburg. Sue Stryker 
came up to see about it. “ Where do you folks get 
all the money you spend, Miss Ann? Your Aunt 
Fontaine never could go into such expenditures. 
Miss Adams says you’ll make ducks and drakes of 
all you have before long, and have to sell the place 
here. Mrs. Dibbs says you have borrowed no end 
of money at the bank, all that Mr. Prentice dare let 
you have, but I don’t know how Mrs. Dibbs knows 
everything. Mrs. Moss is so funny ! she said you’d 
have to be like the Queen of Denmark, getting rich 
by marrying your girls to great fortunes. Dear me, 
you and Elizabeth will be alone all summer. Mrs. 
Stone said that was a pity, you’d have time to man- 
age the town more than ever. Whatever is done 
now, seems to have you back of it.” 

“ The other day,” said Ann, “ I read something 
like this — that in the morning when a cock crowed 
and roused his distant neighbor, and that one the 


THE JOY OF ELIZABETH . 


331 


next, and so on, for all we know, in close succession, 
those calls might go on from Maine to Patagonia. 
It reminded me of the saying that the world would 
be clean enough if every man would clean up his 
own premises. If some of you people were busy 
about that, you would have less time to watch what 
I am doing.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 

“ Each man’s chimney is his golden milestone, 

Is the central point from which he measures 
Every distance, 

Through the gateways of the world around him.” 

Mr. Gillespie looked in through the open long 
window that, in pleasant weather, made the verandah 
seem part of Elizabeth’s room. A«n and Elizabeth 
were sitting together ; Ann working, and Elizabeth 
reading aloud. 

“ And how did you find our Davy, Miss Ann, 
when you went to welcome her back ? ” 

“ Well and happy, and every way improved ; I am 
more than ever glad that she had that trip. Arthur 
stayed in the city with us six hours, and went on to 
his college. Emily is well, and at last the Rolfs are 
all settled in their own home. They invited Davy 
to spend Christmas holidays with them, but she says 
she must come and see Elizabeth.” 

“ You saw Miss Dorothy and Miss Arblay ? ” 

“ Dorothy was away on a trip, writing up some- 
thing for a magazine ; Clotilde has been nursing 
rich patients for several months, but an epidemic of 
a severe and dangerous form of measles, and also 
332 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 


333 


scarlet fever, has broken out in the poorer districts 
of the city, and Clotilde has left her rich patients, 
who gladly pay her from fifteen to twenty dollars a 
week, and has gone down to care for those who can- 
not pay anything. As I was visiting Emily, Davy, 
and other college girls, I dared not go down to see 
Clotilde, lest I might carry infection to them. What 
do you think Clotilde and Doctor Helen have done ? 
They have prepared some simply worded, clearrules 
for disinfecting houses, for sanitation, and hygienic 
living ; explaining clearly why foul air, dirty drains, 
ill-kept beds and clothes, and carelessly cooked food 
are dangerous ; they have also a sheet of directions 
for the care of the sick and the especial care of 
measles, and scarlet fever patients. These sheets 
are printed in clear, large type. Clotilde collected 
from friends of her father money to print hundreds 
of these leaflets, and they are scattered all through 
those parts of the city where the poor and ignorant 
are crowded together. Doctor Helen says she al- 
ready sees the good results ; people begin to under- 
stand something of hygiene, and there is an evident 
improvement in the housekeeping, especially the 
cleanliness of stairs, halls and walks. I felt just as 
if I must go right there and help Helen and Clotilde ; 
but my duty lay here in Dillburg, so back I came.” 

“ I was much pleased with Arthur,” said Mr. 
Gillespie, “ I saw him several times while he was 
here, week before last ; he is an earnest-minded, 
manly fellow. I think he is thinking deeply on the 
subject of religion. I hope so \ he will be a useful 


334 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


worker in the church, and in the community 
generally ; he has plenty of vim in him, and jolly, 
popular ways. I have not long to stay here this 
morning. I am out canvassing my congregation, 
and you don’t need to be canvassed. I greatly feel 
the need of having my people better informed and 
more interested in church work ; they need weekly 
education given by our church papers, and the mis- 
sionary magazines. They subscribe, and in a year 
or two let the subscription drop : new households 
are set up and do not consider this religious litera- 
ture a part of their necessary furnishings. If I could 
bring my flock to consider that two or three Bibles, 
a hymn-book, Pilgrim’s Progress, their church paper, 
their missionary magazine, and if possible some 
other great religious papers, made as needful a part 
of household and personal belongings, as cook-stove, 
bedstead, and umbrella, I should have a congrega- 
tion interested in church work, responsive to all ap- 
peals in behalf of the world’s Christianization, 
built up at home because they were also striving to 
build up abroad.” 

“ I could not afford to miss the interest and 
pleasure to be derived from their religious journals ; 
it seems a poor commentary on our religion that we 
do not care to be as well informed as to its interests, 
as in the affairs of the nations, and the gossip of 
the day,” said Ann. 

“ Ann says these papers help so much in frag- 
ment-gathering and using, and Ann is great on using 
the fragments.” 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 


335 

“ And how is that, Elizabeth ? ” asked the pastor. 

“ You see Ann cannot endure to have anything 
wasted, and the church papers and magazines tell 
us where we can use so many little things that other 
people might throw away. The missionaries tell 
us where we can send scraps of silk, velvet, or calico 
to the sewing-schools, or larger remnants for 
clothes. They ask for cards with texts or pictures 
of Scripture scenes, they tell where clothes, second- 
hand clothes, are needed for the negro or Indian 
schools ; or some missionary tells how he needs 
books, magazines, or papers. Then, as soon as we 
have read the papers and magazines, we send them 
off to some home missionary, who cannot otherwise 
get them. Sometimes we see appeals for big things, 
for the missionary Society or the clubs to be in- 
terested in. We found in the missionary magazine 
where to send those last three boxes, all nice, new, 
good things. Then we may read of a schoolhouse 
that has blown down, or a little chapel burned, or a 
colporteur’s horse that has died, we feel real in- 
terested in it all, and we write to the people who 
have suffered, and become acquainted with them. 
While our own giving has to be very moderate, we 
can ask richer people to help. O Mr. Gillespie, 
these church papers and magazines make our lives 
so much wider” 

“They do, indeed, Elizabeth, and all this en- 
courages me to keep right on with this not very 
agreeable work of canvassing. It will be a means of 
grace to my own people and do them as much good 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


336 

as a half dozen or more of sermons ! Our tempta- 
tions without and temptations within make it hard 
enough for us to lead godly lives, and make swift prog- 
ress toward heaven, and we should not let slip such 
helps along the way, as religious publications afford 
us.” Mr. Gillespie rose to go : 

“ I was just thinking of going to your house, to 
ask you and Mrs. Gillespie to tea to-morrow,” said 
Ann ; “ Dorothy will be here for a few days, she will 
come to-day, on her way back to the city from her 
trip. You will enjoy seeing her.” 

“We shall indeed, and we always enjoy the way 
you try to widen and brighten our Dillburg lives, 
by asking us to share the pleasure of your friends’ 
society, when they come from the larger world out- 
side. The seeing them is delightful, and your 
thoughtfulness is just as delightful.” 

“ I don’t see,” said Elizabeth, when Mr. Gillespie 
had gone, “ what earthly pleasure people can find 
in picking and carping at their ministers — some 
seem to be always on the watch to find fault ; they 
call too much, or don’t call enough, they are too 
grave, or too gay, too idle or too studious. Such 
folks make me think of Browning’s story of Disraeli. 
He made a little speech on some pictures exhibited 
— what amazed him most was ‘ the variety, the fresh- 
ness of thought, the splendor of color, the delicacy 
of handling.’ In fifteen minutes after he remarked 
to Browning, what amazed him most was ‘ the lack 
of variety, of freshness of thought, the dullness of 
color, and the careless handling.’ Gladstone said 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 


337 


he thought * such double-mindedness simply 
devilish ’ — how many people are just as carping and 
as double-minded about their ministers : they grum- 
ble at the men themselves, and at their sermons, 
just as if the sole errand of the ministers in a com- 
munity was to be a mark for envious tongues ? How 
are we ever to get to the Glory Gate, if we pelt Mr. 
Greatheart with stones, and fling mud at the 
Shepherds? ” 

u There are -some texts too often forgotten, be- 
cause the ministers themselves seem to have some 
hesitation about pressing them home. ‘ Touch not 
mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm/ ‘ For 
they watch for souls, as they that must give account.’” 

“ Yes, I quoted those texts to Sue Stryker one 
day, when she was here on a general fault-finding 
expedition, and she said, well, she needed first of 
all to be sure that they were prophets and anointed; 
it didn’t look quite like it to her.” 

“ What did you say to that ? ” asked Ann. 

u I told her, as she seemed not able to be quite 
sure either way, it might be safer for her to give 
them the benefit of the doubt.” 

■“That was good common-sense, anyhow,” said 
Ann, laughing. 

That afternoon Dorothy came over to see them. 
u I had such a budget of news written me by one 
of the girls, that I had to come right over and un- 
fold it,” she said. 

“ That was good. I was in the city only four days, 
and saw Doctor Helen once for a few minutes, and 
22 


338 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

the others not at all. Let us hear all you have to 
tell,” said Ann. 

“ Sara Fordyce has a carte blanche from his semi- 
civilized princeship, Len Sin Din, whatever he is, to 
provide all the appliances of learning for the school 
of tan-colored royalty. Isn’t Sara in a way to do a 
world of good ? Grace Dare and her husband have 
opened an evening free school for the higher educa- 
tion of clerk-girls, and the people of their church 
are going wild over it ; so typewriting, French, 
drawing, bookkeeping, stenography, and all that, 
will be had free, from the best teachers. Madame 
Baron, Mrs. Waldeck and Mrs. Baron haTe opened 
a Boys’ Own House with lunch-rooms, class-rooms, 
gymnasiums, labor-bureau, Sunday Bible Classes,, 
daily medical advice, and I don’t know what all ; 
but it’s bound to make men instead of scalawags 
of a crowd of boys just at the turning point, up, to 
the Glory Gate, or — down, down, down. And Clo- 
tilde ! ” 

“ Yes, what about dear Clotilde? When I was 
there she had gone into an illimitable nursing-for- 
nothing, having, in several previous months, earned 
what she thought would last her for a year,” cried 
Ann. 

“ A year 1 ” cried Dorothy, with a merry laugh, 
“ Providence has not smiled on Clotilde’s efforts at 
being poor. When she has seen that epidemic to 
its successful end, Clotilde is to marry a millionaire.” 

“What ! ” cried Ann and Elizabeth. 

“Just what I say. She knew him long ago, nearly 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 


339 


always, and I fancy too, they cared for each other. 
He was in India when her father died, had gone on 
some silk and tea errand, and when he came back 
last week, he simply would not take no for an answer; 
thought no too short a word to sound well. There- 
fore, Clotilde had to be more liberal of letters and 
make it yes. Won’t Clotilde make her money do 
good ! ” 

That evening, as Ann and Elizabeth sat on the 
verandah together, Elizabeth said, “ Ann, I have so 
often heard you talking about Clotilde, Grace, Miss 
Fordyce, and your other Mount Merion Cottage 
friends, that it has seemed as if I knew them all. 
Of course it was foolish of me, but I never realized 
that, as the years went by, you would all change, 
grow old, some would marrf and some might die, 
leaving the others to travel on alone to old age. It 
is the way of the world, but somehow one does not 
think it, concerning oneself or nearest friends. You 
know what the Scripture says — ‘ Gray hairs are here 
and there upon him, and he knoweth it not.’ It 
seemed to me, as I thought of you all, that you were 
a party of strong, happy, useful women, moving 
along the road to the Glory Gate, doing good as you 
went, always in your mental and physical prime, all, 
at last, to come together to the end of the journey !” 

“A pleasant dream, Elizabeth, but not in accord 
with the facts of this earthly life ; and no doubt 
God’s way is best.” 

“ You and I were, foolishly enough, surprised, 
Ann, at hearing that Clotilde Arblay was about to 


340 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 


marry. Some day we shall be even more surprised 
to hear that our Davy is to marry. The years will 
make a man of Arthur, and he will be away from 
Dillburg, in business ; and he will also marry and 
have a home of his own ; their interests will not 
center here. I have been thinking, Ann, that as 
the old ties change, we must make some new ones. 
I do not wish to be so alone that I shall always 
keep you from having the rest, change, or pleasure, 
that you need and have a right to. You are very 
kind and self-sacrificing, dear Ann, I don’t think 
any one ever realizes how much so ; but you ought 
not to be so bound to me that you have no larger 
scope than my life. No one life, I think, is large 
enough to furnish the entire field and possibilities 
of some other life, unless it should be such as Wil- 
liam the Silent, or Cromwell, or Cavour, or Wash- 
ington, in whose wide lives nations lived. You’ll 
wonder what I am saying all this for; it is just the 
roundabout way in which I reached the conclusion, 
that I want to adopt a little girl, a tiny baby girl, so 
I can have her the longer — a little child to love and 
train and educate, and make good and happy. If I 
do that, I shall do a good work. If I am just lame, 
delicate Elizabeth, I shall find occupation and com- 
pany in the child.” 

“ It is a lovely plan, dear Elizabeth,” said Ann, 
tenderly. 

“ I have thought of it for some time, and one 
night when I could not get asleep, I spoke of it to 
C’list’an, who was sitting with me, and she said it 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 341 

was a fine plan, and she would love to nurse a little 
child for me that way. To-day, in our church paper, 
I saw a note from a missionary’s wife out West, 
telling of a missionary who had been killed by an 
accident while travelling, and his wife is very ill, 
and can live for only two or three weeks. There is 
an only child, a girl three months old. The ques- 
tion is asked, ‘ Who will take this little child ? ' and 
it seemed to me the Lord said, * Elizabeth, take this 
child, and nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy 
wages. 9 I have thought of it all this afternoon, 
wanting to talk to you of it, as soon as people left 
us alone. I feel as if I want to send a telegram to 
say I will take the child.” 

“ That is right,” said Ann. “ ‘ The King’s busi- 
ness requireth haste.’ ‘What thou doest, do 
quickly.’ In the morning I will go and ask Mr. 
Gillespie to send the despatch, for they will rec- 
ognize his name on the roll of ministers, and will 
feel certain of the good faith of the offer.” 

“ And you’ll like it too, Ann ? ” 

“ Indeed I will. I have thought that when the 
education of Davy and Arthur should be off my 
hands, I would like to take a little child or two, to 
bring up for useful, happy life.” 

“ Before you do that, there is another plan for you 
to carry out, a plan Dorothy and I have talked 
over. We spoke of it to-day.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ You two, you and Dorothy, are to have a six 
months’ trip to Europe ! Oh, how you will enjoy 


342 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


that ! I shall see Europe through your eyes. You 
will be able to afford it nicely, then, Ann ; and we 
can invite some missionary lady, or minister’s 
widow, who needs a home and a rest, to come here 
and be house-mistress while you are gone, and re- 
lieve your mind about me. We have it all planned, 
Dorothy and I ; and in two years, or at the most 
three from this next May, you can go. O 
Ann, it is so lovely to plan pleasant things 
for other people ! I used not to think that, I 
thought it would be far nicer to plan pleasant things 
for myself. I don’t feel that way now.” 

“ You grow, my Elizabeth, you grow,” said 
Ann. 

Ann and Elizabeth had many such talks as this, 
happy talks, when they planned good things for 
others, ‘ took sweet counsel together,’ and helped 
build each other up in spiritual life. 

One evening in January, they were chatting in 
the library when the lights were low. Davy had 
spent her Christmas vacation with them, and had 
gone back for her last months of college work. 
Davy had been bright as a sunbeam while at home, 
had found much to interest her in Elizabeth’s 
adopted baby, and had been in all so delightful, 
that Elizabeth had said, “ O Davy, I hate to think 
of your ever being away from us again.” 

Then Davy had looked down and smiled. 

“ Ann,” said Elizabeth, “ I often have heard you 
say that the good earthly parent is a daily parable 
of the divine Parent. I constantly find it more true. 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 


343 

Parents are fond of giving pleasant surprises and 
daily treats to their children ; always some fresh 
kindness shown ; it is so God acts toward us. Some 
pleasure is always opening for us. How much we 
have enjoyed Davy’s visit ! How much I enjoy this 
dear little sister ! She might have been a cross, 
sickly, homely, or dull child, and, of course, we 
should have kept her just the same. Instead, she 
is good, pretty, merry, bright, healthy, just a dar- 
ling of a girl-baby. ” 

“Yes, indeed; he crowneth my life with good 
things, he daily loadeth me with benefits. As for 
myself, I have ‘felt like singing all the time/ since 
Arthur’s letter came, with his good news. How 
many hindrances Satan puts in our way of coming 
to Christ ! Arthur said he had not wanted to be a 
religious idler, one of the dead-heads of the church, 
and he had been waiting and waiting, to find in 
himself the will and the power to lead an active 
Christian life. He might have waited forever to 
find that in himself ! Then that verse, which he 
heard a woman singing in a garden, singing again 
and again, with pleasant iteration : 

“ ‘ Then I thought I heard him say 
As he passed along his way, 

O silly sheep keep near me, 

My sheep should never fear me, 

I am the Shepherd true,* 

suddenly opened his eyes ; he saw that all his affair 
was to follow the “ Shepherd true,” keep close at 


344 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


his steps, and go wherever he saw it good to lead, 
and the Shepherd would arrange the rest. Then he 
* sat down under his shadow with great delight/ 
That is the true secret of Christian living, Elizabeth, 
keeping so near to Christ, so constantly in his com- 
pany, that he is reflected in us, and we grow into 
his likeness. Intercourse with God made the face 
of Moses to shine when he came down from the 
mount, and it will make our light shine, too, to com- 
mune much with God.” 

“ And how easily we are wiled away, and grow 
dull and forgetful, lag far out of sight, behind our 
Shepherd ! ” 

“ Then he goeth forth into the wilderness of our 
foolish wanderings, and does not turn back, until 
he brings us upon his shoulder rejoicing. Surely, 
he is the ‘ Shepherd True.’ ” 

When spring came, the matter of Davy’s gradua- 
tion was a subject of constant discussion. Arthur, 
that young sophomore, arrogant as sophomores 
usually are, announced that he should meet Ann in 
the city, and see that Davy did the thing properly. 
Elizabeth took the greatest interest in the making 
of Davy’s dark-blue silk graduating dress, and then 
fell into some despondency considering that she 
could not attend commencement. The longing for 
change, for a sight of the great city, for a share in 
the festivities of the commencement week, allied 
themselves in Elizabeth’s mind and made a hostile 
and vigorous attack upon her peace. “ I do think,” 
she exclaimed with tears, to Mr. Gillespie, “ that my 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 


345 

lot is a hard one, and that I have always had great 
trials, bitter things to bear.” 

“ You have, indeed, Elizabeth, and if there were 
any one who could remove all your disabilities, it 
would seem more in order to do it, than to remind 
you that these light afflictions which endure but for 
a moment, work out for you an exceeding weight of 
glory, the peaceable fruits of righteousness, that 
you may profit thereby. As you have received all 
the healing that human science can bring to your 
case, your friends can only apply their aid and 
comfort to your mind. I thought of you to-day, 
when I read these passages in a book I have brought 
to lend to Ann. ‘ After these terrible trials his 
soul succeeded in breaking the bonds which held it 
to earthly passions. He learned, once and forever, 
that sublime truth which ever broods above all 
human science, and will be the final compendium 
of all truth, the sacrifice of self. Here then he en- 
tered the sacred ground of liberty, and his existence, 
expanded serenely in the midst of a sweet repose. 
To pursue self and" self’s ends is to live afar from 
God. To be united to him, to rest trustfully in his 
love and his allotments for us, as a child rests in 
the cares of its mother, this should be the constant 
aspiration of redeemed humanity. He who feels 
most imperiously this desire of harmony with God, 
and helpfulness toward man is the most good and 
just. What is the meaning of self-abnegation, of 
self-surrender? Is it not the expression of that 
secret voice in the soul, that tells us that to love 


346 TOWARD THE GLORY GATE. 

self is to love the finite, the ephemeral, the imper- 
fect ; but to love God and our neighbor, and lose 
our personal complainings in love and thanksgiving, 
this is to unite oneself in anticipation with the loft- 
iest joys of eternity ! ’ ” 

Elizabeth’s face became serene. She said : “ To 
think high thoughts helps one over the hard places 
of life.” 

When Ann returned to her Alma Mater to see 
Davy graduate, when she met the professors and 
the classmates of her college years, the eix years of 
life at Dillburg seemed, for the hour, to fade away, 
and she was the girl again, looking out upon prac- 
tical life with curiosity and doubt. Would she be 
glad to go back? No; the present with its bur- 
dens, its responsibilities, its graver situations was 
after all better than untried youth. No doubt this 
is so, in all the advancing stages of our lives. Does 
the gold in the crucible think the purging away of 
the dross worth while ? 

On the evening of the president’s reception, Mr. 
Rolf and Ann were together talking, when Rufus 
and Davy passed them. 

“That is an interesting and charming young 
couple,” said Mr. Rolf, laughing. “ Miss Ann, my 
son intended this evening to ask Davy to enter our 
family en per7nanence , and he looks so extremely 
happy just now, that I fancy he has made his little 
speech and it has been favorably considered. Davy 
will be abundantly welcomed in our household. ” 

“ Davy ! Little Davy ! ” exclaimed Ann. “ I had 


THE GOLDEN MILESTONE. 


3 47 


scarcely thought of any such change for Davy, she 
seems to me so very young.” From her some ten 
years of seniority, Ann felt herself very old, and 
Davy but a child. Also she was now unexpectedly 
reaping the usual harvest of mothers — we bring up 
daughters and — other homes call them ! It was a 
little shock at first ; but if this was well, was best 
for Davy, Ann must presently be glad for her. 
Tears were in her eyes for a minute, then she said : 
“ I have still Elizabeth. The household that my 
Aunt Fontaine left me will not all be scattered.” 

“Your Aunt Fontaine was a wise woman when 
she left you heir of her fortune, her family, her 
liabilities,” said Mr. Rolf. “ You have administered 
well. Mr. Grace said to me one day that he always 
thought of you, Miss Ann, in connection with that 
verse of Scripture, * Many daughters have done vir- 
tuously ; but thou excellest them all.’ Not for bril- 
liant achievement, but for persistent, earnest doing 
of duty.” 

“ I knew,” said Ann, “ that I was like that servant 
to whom his lord gave but one talent, and I was 
terribly afraid lest I should bury it in a napkin. I 
am commonplace, and have only common-sense ” 

“ Sanctified common-sense,” interposed Mr. 
Rolf. 

“ Let us hope so — only that to administer, and I 
have daily prayed that my Lord, when he cometh, 
might receive his own with usury.” 

“ * Well done, good and faithful servant,” ’ said Mr. 
Rolf in his heart. 


348 


TOWARD THE GLORY GATE . 


AFTER WORD. 

I have a vision of a plain, quiet, steadfast woman, 
moving along an upward way, which leads between 
the gate of human birth and the Gate of Glory. 
Whatever she finds in that way she accepts, for the 
greater glory of God. She cannot wander far from 
her path, for it has been marked by Feet that left 
footprints of gold across the world. However long 
that way may be, it is short, being filled with activi- 
ties ; however short it may be, it is long enough, 
because it reaches to the Gate of Light. 












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